


Disguised Evil

by Keitmeg



Series: Zosan Package [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, College, Dark, Defloweration, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, F/M, Hypnosis, Intercrural Sex, Killer and Prey, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Games, Minor Dehydration and Starvation, Pharmacological Torture, Plot Twists, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sadism, Seizures, Sexual Abuse, Temporary Mind Break, Two Endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 109,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keitmeg/pseuds/Keitmeg
Summary: [“Your body,” Zoro whispers in a silvery voice that makes Sanji's entire body quiver with something, dare he say, exciting. “I need only think of it and I’m hard again.”]





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread by the one and only, the amazing Dawn.

 

Luffy’s childhood friend, Sanji, has epilepsy.

Sanji’s normal life took a swan dive for the worse when he turned seventeen and suffered a severe head injury in a car crash. Now he’s twenty-one years old, and he has to take antiepileptic/anti-seizure drugs for the rest of his life.

Despite the new-fangled burdens that tag along with having his body convulse randomly, Sanji always keeps his game face on, never allowing disheartening thoughts to change his mindset. As his childhood friend puts it, he has a mysterious touch to him. Sometimes he doesn’t speak unless spoken to, and he keeps to himself. But that only happens on occasions; the rest of the time, he’s sociable, easy to approach, and a joy to have around. It’s probably why Luffy’s closest friends decided to take him along on their little road trip towards the capital.

At first, it was Frank’s idea; and, seeing that they finally had a rest from the long terms of college’s stressful days, he called for an adventure in a rented van. He told his friends, including Luffy, that next weekend their favorite band will be performing at the capital, and they would have fun sightseeing the cities before they arrived at their destination. It is a win-win situation. The rest of the friends: Robin, Law, and Nami all agreed, except for Luffy who tried to reason with his friends to go without him. They are all close, even if Sanji doesn’t get along with them. He only bore with their company for Luffy’s sake, and the latter has known that all along. To any ordinary onlookers, Sanji would come across as that one person who is either cold or disliked, an introvert so to speak. But that’s not the case, at least as far as Luffy believes. It’s just, ever since the accident, Sanji has... matured, remarkably so. But even considering the idea of ditching their friend, Luffy, seemed outrageous as they insisted he tags along.

When Luffy told them he promised his childhood friend that he’d take him somewhere, they suggested it’s all the more reason to come because they could all go together. When he offered the idea to Sanji, the young man became excited because he has never been outside his town, so it sounded quite appealing.

He was advised by his father to take all his medications and toiletry kit, which he thought was absurd; being epileptic for over four years kind of makes you an expert at drills like these.

The next day, Luffy and Sanji stand by the latter’s doorstep, waiting for the rental to come into view. After minutes of waiting, a beat-up white van finally drives into their neighborhood, weighed by five of Luffy’s friends. Much to Sanji’s chagrin, the most obnoxious and big-mouthed guy, who just won’t stop rubbing him the wrong way, Usopp, is here to prove Sanji how disappointing his luck is. The childhood friends greet them after stuffing their bags into the trunk.

Luffy’s friends, even Usopp, knew all along about Sanji’s medical condition and the side effects of his drugs. They also know about all the possible triggers that might initiate his seizures, so they promised to keep their heads up.

 

The ride is fun. Sanji finally has a proper chance to speak to some of Luffy’s friends, even the ones that are notorious for having a real mean-streak and a hard penchant for punching anything that dares to check them up.

Sanji appreciates the company.

  
It’s around nine in the evening when Frank calls it a close quit after they fill up the van at the next gas station. Nami is riding gunshot and switching between stations for some music to her liking, which, mind you, she still doesn’t find. Robin is reading a magazine and Law is in the backseat with Usopp, smoking trashy pot and hollering at any passing cars like your regular teen stoners under the bleachers. Now, the only problem Luffy has with those two inhaling burned weed at the very back is their inconsideration towards his friend’s health. First, it’s August. The roads are roasted outside by now because the heat is hotter than the concrete can handle. They turned the AC on in the car at some point because of _that_ heat. Secondly, they can’t smoke with the windows closed; but if they open them, some of the heat will come in and irritate Sanji. It’s never been an issue, and it’s not going to be now, but Luffy likes to play it safe. Besides, Marijuana is just another type of drug. Inhaling marijuana is the same as using it, and using drugs will trigger his seizures. So because of Sanji’s anti-seizure side effects, Luffy rules out his friend’s pretty rough ride.

Nami reads their next destination off her paper map, and she tells Frank to take the next detour onto the dirt road. The three in the backseat fell asleep after having exhausted themselves. Nami does the same too since everything is pitch black outside. There is nothing that breaks the visual monotony of dark outlines; hardly fascinating stuff.

Sanji is propping on the door handle by his forearm, temple on the glass. He listens to the low hum of the engine and the quiet whispers of the melodies blasting off in Luffy’s earphone, slowly pulling him to sweet oblivion.

 

Blurry images of his car crash flash like a speeding cassette until he was shaken awake by a violent jolt. He looks around, and he sees how everyone is looking at themselves. His friend is lifting his head off the window and checking on him.

“I’m fine,” he tells him. He eyes the other passengers and switches back to Luffy, worry latent in his voice. “What happened?”

“Freaking Nami is what happened!” Frank bellows behind the wheel, and it’s only then it registers that some of the sunlight has caught up to them. “She’s been giving me the wrong directions, and I’ve been driving in damn circles for the past two hours!”

“Oh, now it’s my fault!” Nami counters, her nose flaring with rage. “You ugly Meerkat!”

“Who you calling Meerkat, you–” He glances over at her and then back at the road, still grappling for the word. When that proves futile because he’s seeing too much red to think straight, he pokes where it hurts. “You can’t even read a freaking road map!”

Usopp drawls, still slightly shaky from the bump. “Lay off her, Frank.”

“And who are you,”–Frank glares into the rearview mirror–“her spokesman?”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna punch the light outta ya if you glare at me like that again.” Usopp swings a forewarning index at the other, whose brows twitch at the sinister words that for sure will work to convey the hint in the dread of the night. He’d probably mope on what-ifs. Usopp is quite proud of his achievement.

“Back off, Usopp.” Frank punches the steering wheel when he finds nothing else to vent his frustration on.

Sanji ignores their squabble and quickly looks out the window. He sees nothing but woods. Unending rows of thick pine trees lined like a chess board. Luffy asks his friend to stop the car so they can brainstorm their next move. Frank immediately complies, pulling over to a little space beside the dirt road with a sudden halt that has the van’s structure rattling in protest. Everyone gets out, breathing in the morning breeze before the sun makes an appearance. Usopp and Law take a spot beside the frontal tree lines to finish their joints. The former tries to light another cigarette, hoping the nicotine would ease off some of his irritation. Nami and Frank call on a war to glare at each other. If looks could kill, they would have glared each other to their graves by now. Luffy stands on the opposite roadside to look at the daisy flowers trying to grow radiant despite the insufferable heat.

Sanji takes it all in with blank eyes. He checks the van to make sure everything is intact.

That jostle was quite rough, and it might mean that they may have gotten a flat tire. He checks all four tires and finds a punctured cut on the one at the driver’s side. He squats down for better examination; the findings awe him.

“Guys!” he calls out with a skeptical tone. “You gotta see this.”

Those who paid attention and weren’t too doped came, asking about the reason behind his stunt.

“You see this hole here,” he said while pointing at the hole with his index. When he got their ‘yeah, what about it’, he said, “It’s caused by a sharp object.” When only quizzical brows get cocked at him in a ‘newsflash, captain obvious’ gesture, he adds, “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the tire got a puncture the size of my fist?”

“Lots of tires get deflated on dirt roads, Sanji,” Robin reasons with him while scraping a stray pebble with her combat boots. “It’s probably just the heat. We’ll get it switched.”

“I don’t think it’s that cut and dry.” Sanji lifts off to his feet, moving his head in an almost imperceptible shake with his eyes fixated on the tire. “I’ll tell you this much, there’s no way the heat did that.”

“What’ ya saying then, Inspector Gadget?” Usopp prompts, “This isn’t the ‘Hills Have Eyes’ stupid little show to flaunt your nerdy knowledge.” He approaches Sanji with a little tottery in his walk. “Or you must be slacking off on your daily shot.”

Luffy puffs out his chest. He already hates him from school. Why did Frank have to invite him too? “Talk to my friend like that again, and you can bet your filthy ass I’m ‘a cut your filthy balls, dumb-shit.”

The defiant look in his eyes makes usopp tremble. “We were just having a decent conversation before you interrupted and made a mountain outta a freaking molehill,” he scoffs.

Luffy wraps his arms around his chest and tilts his head, goading the other for one more word… one more word and so God help him.

Usopp reads the vibe. But still hating the loss and wanting a little revenge, he turns around and mutters over his shoulder, “Handicaps.”

Law has long since stopped burning his joint so he can watch what’s going on just like everyone else. Some of them gasp because of what Usopp said. Luffy darts forward after him like a bullet to latch at him, but Sanji catches him by the arm. He squares his shoulders when Luffy tries to pull from his grip. “Drop it.”

Luffy does, but only after Sanji refuses to ease the pressure on his arm.

Now it’s certainly on the table that they’re in the middle of nowhere with a busted van. The map that Nami has been reading turned out to be upside down all this time. It’s time to push their arguments behind them so they can try to come out of this before the concert even begins.

 

********

 

“Ah”–Robin heaves a sigh, plunging her phone back into her pocket–“the signal is still not coming back.”

Some of them have tried to use the games on their phones to keep from the stifling boredom, but they soon realize that they can’t even receive a decent signal. Not to mention they don’t even know where they are exactly, which kind of irritates them, besides the heat.

“Alright.” Nami claps once. “Let’s switch the tire and find our way outta this hellhole.”

Frank agrees. He forgets about Nami for now because the rental needs his attention more. He’s going to make sure every one of them pays their share for the busted tire. Nami then approaches Luffy to complain that she fell asleep at some point; it’s not her fault they’re here. It’s not something Sanji has the heart to stomach right now. He knows that Nami was the one reading directions off the map, and you don’t handle that kind of responsibility unless you were apt to. He retreats from there and slides his arm inside the van from the window to grab a bottle of water since his case is a little bit different. Not special mind you, but he knows he needs to keep hydrated.

“You didn’t bring a spare? What are you?” Law suddenly rebukes angrily. “A freaking moron?”

“I just,” Frank mumbles, guilty and all. “I didn’t think we’d be needing an extra.”

Sanji approaches them after discarding the bottle inside over his seat.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Law shouts, throwing his hands in the air like a madman. “This is just great!” While huffing, he kicks a stray cluster of pebbles and storms away from them to try to calm down. Nami is quickly on his trail because seeing him upset makes her upset.

Sanji watches all this with attentive eyes now. He then looks around him. He scrutinizes the sedimentary rocks and the banded ground flooring the earth. He takes in the sky growing whiter with the rising sun, and the trees surrounding them from every corner. He rules out their dire need of directions. He asks Nami to hand him the map, and when she does, Sanji takes it with such determination that it sparks hope in their eyes.

“You know where we are?” she asks with her adenoidal voice, urgency evident in her way of asking.

“I think so, yea.” Sanji tells her the good news, and then he spreads the map on the van’s hood. “We filled up gas in this little town here, right?” He motions at some very faint writing on the map which Nami keeps on staring at. Sanji then realizes that Nami has no idea what he’s talking about and he can’t believe she’s the one who has been reading off directions till now. “Look, we must have wandered off to this side of the road when Frank thought he’d been going in circles, it only means he was driving on this dirt road for a few hours thinking it was the same path.” He taps on a greenish area on the map with his slender index. “Place here looks all the same anyway, so it only means we’ve been going in here further. If we turn back, we might catch sight of the main road.”

“But without the van that’d be hours,” Robin notes. Sanji gives her credit for being able to read the distance. “There’s no signal, and there are no other cars have driven past on this road yet,” –Alright, that’s more than Sanji bargained. He hopes Robin doesn’t voice out any other misfortunes. These guys can only handle so much– “And our van is a goner.”

Sanji doesn’t order her to keep her mouth shut because hiding these things only serves to run from the truth. He knows that if they want to solve this dilemma, they must speak about the problems they have at hand. Sanji thanks her for the effort, folding the map in the meanwhile.

“So...” Nami wraps her arms around her chest. “Are we just going to wait or what?”

“I’m afraid it’s more than that.” Sanji sighs bitterly, “Listen, guys.” He wets his lips. “I’ll head to the main road and try to get to the town we were at last night,” he says, now looking into the eyes of each one of them as they look worriedly back at him. “I’ll try to get help.”

“But Sanji”–Robin tilts her head–“you’re…”

When Sanji deciphers the meaning, he only smiles. “I know.”

Yes, he is epileptic. This little trip might cost him his life, but it’s not like he’s ready to camp out here and wait for death to creep in slowly. The van is out of order, and it could be days before another car comes on this road. He might as well do something about this since he can read that map. He opens the door to the van and gets inside. He grabs a couple of water bottles and some snacks before putting everything in his red backpack. When he comes out, he finds Luffy standing next to the van with everyone else.

“What’ you think you’re doing?” he urges, one brow cocked in a very patronizing manner.

Sanji chews on his bottom lip before sighing, “Lu, I’m not going to keep repeating myself to each one of you.” He says forcefully, “I found the way that will take me back to the main road and I’m taking it.”

“Yeah,” Luffy scoffs. “Keep on dreaming.”

“Lu, I love you, but I’m not going to wait for your permission like little goody-two-shoes.” He takes out his phone to check if it’s charged. Sixty-five percent is not a bad number.

“You’re not going anywhere, alright?” The shorter male deadpans, “The last thing we need over this pile of shit is you having a seizure in the middle of nowhere. What help could that be? Tell me.”

Everyone watches as the two childhood friends keep on ripping into each other. They know better than to heckle them, especially with Luffy turning on his protective detectors. They wait in hopes he simmers down to the humble and caring anchor that he is to his friends.

Luffy doesn’t plan on making this easy for anyone as he snatches the bag from Sanji’s back and flings it away. “You’re not dying on my watch, you get that?” He wiggles an admonishing index at his friend. “You can try to play hero all you want, but I’m the one who’s gonna make sure it doesn’t go at your expense.” The look in his eyes suddenly tenderizes with worry. “You’re in no condition to go by yourself, and you’re not exactly hedging your debts by trying to play it safe. Stress equals seizures. Isn’t that enough proof to you or what?”

“So what are you suggesting then?” Sanji suddenly bellows, causing them all to flinch. “That I take the safe seat in this like some freaking handicap and let everyone take the hit for me?”

“You know the way out, right?” Luffy asks out of the blue. “ _Right_?” he prompts when Sanji only stares blankly at him. When he finally nods tentatively, Luffy smiled to him and said, “You hand over that map. You give me the right coordinates, and I’ll go instead.”

That is out of the question Luffy.

“No.” Sanji said briskly. He walks away from his friend in a way that denotes this conversation is over and that he wins.

Luffy is not going to have it. He latches onto Sanji again and spins him around to face him. “I’m not going to lose you again.”

Law finally decides to take part in this. He wants to stop the argument before it escalates to something troublesome like a fist fight. “Alright,” he sighs. “Frank and I will go.”

The childhood friends swivel their heads so fast. “What?” They ask in unison.

Frank asks in bewilderment, “Yea, what?”

Law looks at them blankly inscrutable before flippantly scratching his nape. “You two are too overprotective of each other. I don’t think we’ll get anywhere with you being at each other's throats like that,” he said. “Frank kinda fucked up too, so he’s coming with.”

“No, Law.” Sanji disagrees. Law feels like he must rein in his anger to try to keep from punching some sense into the brunet. “I’m not an invalid. I can do this. I’m coming with too.”

Law looks at him amused. “And you honestly think Luffy here is gonna let you have it your way?”

Sanji’s brows twitch at that.

“Don’t sweat it,” Law chuckles. “Just hand over everything here. We can also do the job.”

 

Sanji sits very far from his childhood friend. He hates the blows of bad luck that keep on coming his way. He honestly thought he could pull this off so long as he took care of every little thing since his case is, again, different. He hates to be an extra weight, and he hates it most when his friend makes it look like he is.

A couple of hours go by in a flash, and no cars had made an appearance. They left their hopes on Frank and Law to find their way out.

 

For lunch, they eat some of the snacks they brought with them. Usopp, Nami, and Robin complain about the food, the heat, and their luck.

“This was supposed to be a fun trip; now, we’re delayed in fucking nowhere for a whole day,” Usopp huffs out frustratingly. He shuffles a few times on one of the front seats inside the van, obviously looking uncomfortable.

The rest, except Luffy, agrees with him.

Sanji is sitting on the seat he called first dibs on, and he looks out of the window with a lost look.

“You’re still mad at me?”

Without looking around, Sanji knows that it’s his friend. He doesn’t answer him just to show how angry he is with him right now.

“Go ahead; I won’t stop you,” Luffy offers. “I don’t feel guilty though. It’s my job to look after you. That ain’t gonna change, ever.”

How is that supposed to soothe his anger?

“You can sulk all you want, but when it’s all said and done you’re gonna realize I’m doing this for you.” He lifts off the seat. “Rest your eyes for now.”

Before he realizes it, his eyes slide closed on their own.

 

When he wakes up, he looks around and sees he’s the only one in the van. He quickly looks out of the window. He finds everyone outside lying on the ground under the shadow of a big tree. The scene warms him. He notices that Law and Frank aren’t there. That must mean they are either making their way to the town or they lost their way. Honestly, Sanji hates the latter and just hangs his hopes on the long roads.

They usher him to the food on the ground after he gets out. These idiots, if they keep eating like that, they won’t have any food left for dinner.

He asks once he reaches their nest, “Any word from Law and Frankie?”

“We’re still waiting,” Nami informs, now choking on that trashy pot they’re smoking.

Serves her right.

Sanji checks his hand watch. It shows that it is five in the evening. “Letting you know that I’m going to look around for a bit,” he said. “If you need me just holler.”

That goes for his best friend Luffy as well.

He takes a half-empty bottle and makes for the off-road. He skids through the tree lines and enjoys the shadow of the deciduous leaves keeping the sun’s heat away. The silence slowly creeps in, and he finds himself loving the sensation. The crickets are buzzing like the phone poles. Far off birds can be heard tweeting on the branches. This is nature, in fact –and this is just Sanji feeling suddenly nostalgic. This is what a nature maniac would choose over the temptations of life.

It urges him to explore more.

Very soon, he hears the faint burbling of water. He makes to its source only to find himself inching toward a flowing river. He is delighted because they can fill up water from here. He walks across the river bank with glowing eyes taking in the scenery in front of him. Before he knew it, he finds himself stripping off his clothes to walk into the water. He goes straight into a small pond that the faint cascades must have created through the years. It’s not deep. It reaches his waist when he bends his knees a little.

Perfect.

He can cool off from the radiant sun. He can listen to the ripple of the cascades and just enjoy his quality time with feather-like touches of water kneading his fair skin. He lifts handfuls of water to spill them on his chest.

When he finally comes out of the water, naked as the day he was born, he hears the dead twigs cracking. It immediately alerts him. He discards that piece of clothing in his hand and keeps a pair of careful eyes on the place. It might be some animal. If he stays still, it will go away. But the sounds come back again, more spoken now. Sanji’s heart starts picking up the pace. “Who’s there?”

Suddenly, someone very tall marches out of the trees and into view.

It is a hiker. Sanji can tell by the baseball hat, the hiking backpack, the timberland boots, the khaki shorts, and the grey T.

The strange man doesn’t say anything. He only eyes Sanji’s naked body for a while. It doesn’t deter Sanji as he looks back. He stares more as those sharp, slightly wide, green eyes of the man switch from Sanji’s face to his torso, and his legs. Soon a smirk twitches at the corner of his thin lips. Sanji takes this with little bewilderment; this man isn’t doing anything to hide that… Sanji isn’t quite sure how to call that expression, but he doesn’t like it.

A man he doesn’t know is looking at him like how a man looks at a woman.

Sanji is standing stark naked, dripping wet. He can almost feel shameless droplets slowly sliding down his waist and between his thighs. That isn’t a turn-on unless this man is playing for a different team. He finally realizes that they’ve been staring back at each other for a few good minutes now. He starts to squirm and feel a blush eventually invading his cheeks. He hates being in the spotlight, especially being stared at by a stranger so he looks away.

The other man finally makes a move, and Sanji is on guard again. The man removes the straps of his travel pack and flings it to the side as he approaches Sanji. The latter’s eyes tremble. He is not only naked but defenseless as well. If this stranger decided to hurt him in any way, there’d be no one to take him out of it by himself. He braces for it. If it comes down to that, he’ll go down fighting.

The man finally stops when he is standing only a feather-width away from Sanji. An arrogant smirk is speaking volumes of his smug expression. It gives an impression that he won something that wasn’t necessarily materialistic.

It still doesn’t deter Sanji as he hardens his glare.

The man scoffs. He averts his eyes and walks past him altogether. Sanji’s gaze follows the man. It’s unintentional, but it’s instinctual. He takes notice of the maroon and black sipper bottle that he’s trying to fill with water from the flowing cascades. Sanji uses the distraction to wear his jeans and the white T-shirt.

The T gets past his face when the other man finishes his task and lifts himself up. He meets Sanji again. The latter adjusts the shirt and ruffles his hair; his eyes on the other’s the entire time.

“Hiking?” Sanji asks. It doesn’t escape him how the other man’s brows almost arch up at the sudden question.

“Trekking.” The man corrects. Just as Sanji guessed, his voice is deep and velvet around the edge.

“Solo?” That’s a rhetorical question, and apparently, the man gets it as he doesn’t say anything about it. “Pretty impressive.” Sanji nods his understanding, now slipping his vans on. “Could be dangerous though.”

“Zoro,” the other said while extending his hand for a handshake. “Name’s Roronoa Zoro.”

Sanji takes his hand, “Sanji.” He said, “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Zoro smiles a little. The smile has a hint of embarrassment into it, but Sanji assumes the man is coy now they’re bare of their names. “So, Sanji.” The enunciated words are droned. “Any reason why you’re venturing out naked by yourself, or are you going to tell me you’re the son of nature?”

Sanji chuckles at the joke, but that doesn’t mean he wants this stranger knowing details of their circumstances. “No,” he starts carefully. “I’m here with friends. We had a bit of a situation, but we’re trying to get into the swing of things.”

“Oh,” Zoro hums a little absentmindedly which Sanji thinks is insulting. “But you guys are OK, right?” he asks out of the blue, and it touches Sanji that he is at least pretending he cares. “I mean physically hurt, because I came across a couple yesterday. One of them was severely injured.”

“No, no we’re okay,” Sanji assures. “Nobody’s hurt.”

“That’s a relief then.” He sighs a little. “Well, I better take my leave now if I want to set up camp before nightfall.”

As Sanji watches the man tuck the bottle into the backpack, he contemplates whether he should invite him to stay with them since they’re spending the night in the open. But he decides against it because they already have enough on their plate. Luffy’s friends couldn’t take anymore.

The man slips into the straps of the pack and fixes the angle of his cap. He looks back at Sanji. “The nights are usually cold up here, so make sure you keep warm,” he said. “And try not to loiter around naked. You could get jumped outta nowhere.” He turns around to leave.

Sanji bites back his retort and only half smiles at the innuendo; suddenly, a scream tears between the tree lines and echoes like a dreary, horrifying cry. Sanji looks up and sees that Zoro is also looking back at him with curious apprehension. It dawns on him that he recognizes the voice as Usopp’s. He instantly shoots towards it, knowing the stranger is soon to be at his heel.

Sanji shoots through the tree lines, ignoring how the twigs and branches scrape his skin on his way. When he finally reaches the clearing where his pals are located, the scene immobilizes him to the spot.

 

Usopp is on the ground beside one of the van’s wheels, wheezing in pain. The rest are scattering around him. They are undecided on what to do because, horror of horrors, Usopp was shot in his chest with a freaking arrow. Sanji moves a little and he barely manages a full stride when Zoro scurries past him, taking off his bag, and dashing to Usopp side. Sanji finally gets his feet under his control again, so he follows Zoro.

“I need some space here!” Zoro shouts at them. “Sanji, can you hand me the first aid kit inside my bag?”

Sanji obeys the order and darts to the bag. He opens it haphazardly, rummaging inside of it with two shaky hands. Luffy comes up to him, face smeared with tears and dirt. “It came outta nowhere, Sanji. Where were you? You’d have been hurt!”

Sanji gets to his feet once he finds the box. “Not now,” he said as he hurries back to Zoro’s side with the emergency kit. “We need to get that arrow out of his chest.”

“I don’t need you to tell me my job.” Zoro bites out. One hand is pressing around the arrow while the other is trying to open the box.

Sanji eyes this very attentively. He looks at Luffy, Nami, and Robin whom are all staring down at them with eyes expectant and fearful. He looks back at Zoro, and ignores how funny he sounds when he orders Usopp, who is in so much pain, to shut the hell up. He sets his mind. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Help me get him inside the van,” Zoro said hurriedly. “Whoever shot him could still be out there.” He adds, “Better safe than sorry, right?”

Sanji nods and gets up to help ship Usopp into the van. They ignore when he cries out in pain as they place him in the backseat of the van. The rest get in too. Sanji immediately looks around for water bottles and something to use as a pillow. He balls their scattered clothes and puts them underneath Usopp’s head.

“Alright,” Zoro sighs, looking up from his crouch to Sanji. “I need you to hold him down for me. I’m about to remove the arrow. This wound needs stitches, or else it’s gonna continue to bleed out.”

Sanji shares a vehement nod with him, and he places his two hands on Usopp’s shoulders. “Go.”

Without wasting a second, Zoro immobilizes the injured by a hand. With the other hand, he uses it to pull out the arrow. Usopp continues to cry out and squirm. “Are you holding him tight?” He shouts at Sanji, “I can see him still moving you know!”

Sanji places all his strength in pushing the injured down, stopping him from moving. He wishes Usopp’s pain could end already. Zoro finally pulls out the arrow. Usopp hollers with a pained cry and collapses soon after. It’s still too early to celebrate. The wound on his chest is bleeding faster. Now with dim lights, Zoro can barely do anything to stop the bleeding.

“Does anyone have a lighter?” He asks. His hands are busy pulling out a syringe and a small liquid bottle of anesthetic Sanji guesses. “I need a lighter.”

Sanji fumbles with the items around him. “Some of you guys smoke, right?”

Aside from Luffy and Sanji, the entire crew smokes (Luffy only occasionally). But only when it’s needed, they can’t find their lighters?

Luffy gets his meaning as he starts looking frantically around. He squeaks when he finds one in the glove compartment. He tosses it to Sanji who catches it with remarkable accuracy. Zoro tells him to open the needle box and sterilize one with the fire. Sanji does as ordered. Zoro pierces Usopp’s chest with the medical needle to pump him full of the good stuff. Hopefully, he won’t feel anything during this excruciating process.

“His internal organs don’t seem wounded. Good…good.” Zoro almost collapses with relief. “He has a couple of cracked ribs though, but nothing life-threatening. Don’t worry.” He said. Now taking the needle and the threading roller from Sanji, he pushes the thread into the eye of the needle and starts stitching up the wound.

 

All the commotion dies just like the faintest rays of the sun sinking beyond the horizon. Sanji feels punched with a sudden lack of adrenaline drive. He grabs a bottle of water and goes back to his seat to relax. From his place, he can see Zoro take out a cardigan from his bag, and spread it over Usopp. He watches as he gives orders to Robin and Nami to keep cooling his forehead and his feet to keep his fever down. He stands up, and his eyes meet with Sanji’s.

He smiles triumphantly.

Why wouldn’t he? He’s just saved a life.

Zoro picks up his supplies and hides them back in his bag. He puts the bag aside and walks to where Sanji is sitting. He flops on the seat next to him with a loud sigh.

He groans, “What a day, huh!”

“You saved a life, don’t whine now,” Sanji chuckles, but it’s all playful.

Zoro gets it, and he chuckles back. “It’s always a good feeling when they live,” he said “But you helped out too, so thank you. I’m sorry I had to yell at you.”

“Just did what I was told to do,” Sanji admits humbly. “But if you don’t mind my asking, are you perhaps a doctor, because if you are, I really feel sorry for your underlings.”

“Med student,” Zoro corrects with a smile. “One more year to graduate.”

Sanji nods. “I’m sure you’re gonna ace it.”

Zoro tries to engage in more conversation with him but Nami speaks from where she’s seated, “Who do you think shot that arrow?”

“I couldn’t see,” Luffy replies. “It’s good we took cover behind the van though. He could have shot us too.”

“You guys didn’t see their faces?” Zoro asks as his voice grows deeper.

Nami seizes the chance to be in their center of attention as she scurries to the seat next to those two. “It was really fast. We were all talking, you know, hanging out. Usopp told us he wanted to take a piss. Then we heard his body slam to the ground, and that’s when we saw the arrow sticking out of his chest.”

“But whoever shot him, he was wearing beige and light brown garments,” Robin prompts. “He quickly ducked after shooting the first arrow.”

Sanji quickly looks through the rear windshield window and sees the outline of the massive sedimentary rocks. If he still remembers correctly, it’s the same color, beige and light brown.

So that means…

“Camouflage,” he mumbles.

Because it was silent while he was thinking, he didn’t even notice that they all hear it.

“What? What did you say?” Nami demands.

“What was that?” Robin curiously asks.

Sanji looks up abruptly. He doesn’t mind sharing his conclusions with them since they look interested enough to listen to him. “The sedimentary rocks have a very distinct trait. Their color is more like sandstone.” When they all just stare uncomprehendingly at him, he adds, “If what you’re saying is true and if my conclusion is right, it must mean they’ve been tracking us down this whole time.”

“Come again?” Luffy scoffs.

“Think about it,” Sanji gushes on. “The freaking heat didn't cause the punctured tire. Let’s suppose it did, how do you explain that hole in the side of the tire? It’s supposed to deflate not puncture.” He takes a deep breath, and adds, “The sandstone color is the same color that culprit was wearing; beige and light brown. It’s called camouflage. Maybe he was the one who shot the tire to render the van useless, and now he’s decided to hurt us?”

Nami snorts, and bursts out laughing. Robin soon follows suit.

“That happens in movies only Sanji!” Nami said. “There’s no killer whatsoever.”

Luffy is too offended by their reaction to have a comeback to that. Sanji only shakes his head dejected.

“Then,” Zoro starts, looking up at them with emerald-green pupils darker than the night sky. “How would you explain that?” He gestures towards Usopp lying pale on the ground. The snickering becomes fainter until they all stop. Their eyes examine the barely alive body. “The fact that somebody shot him still poses questions.” He continues, “Maybe, Sanji’s explanation sounds a little off, but it should not be taken lightly. You guys might have been followed and ambushed.” He turns to face Sanji. “Remember about the couple I told you earlier?”

Sanji nods fervently.

“The husband was severely injured. The wife kept telling him that she saw someone that caused their car to crash. She said they were lucky I was passing by because I helped them out with the injuries her husband sustained,” he sighs. “Maybe this could be related.”

“Did you report this to the rangers?” Sanji asks. His brows twitch when his eyes fall directly on Zoro’s. He’s not used to sitting so close to someone, let alone staring right into their eyes.

“I tried.” Zoro shakes his head in a sorry manner. “But the signal is too weak up here, and I didn’t bring my walkie-talkie with me.”

“But you didn’t get in any sort of problem, right? Like anything similar to this at all?” Sanji asks, bewildered.

Zoro shakes his head again. They resign with slumped shoulders. Then he said, “But”–they look up at him again–“I do remember coming across something strange.”

“Strange?” Sanji repeats. “How strange?”

“Random hunting.” he said. He makes sure he has their attention before he said, “I came across a few carcasses of dead animals. It wasn’t one or two. I mean, the woods were filled with them. This area is pretty famous for hosting the largest number of foxes, but that doesn’t mean they go on random hunts. It made me quite suspicious.”

“It’d be wild boars,” Robin comments. “They’re known to grow into the size of a tree.”

Zoro shakes his head. “No, this was more”–his brows furrow–“this was more brutal.”

  
They all fall into a gloomy silence. They try to come up with scenarios and fabricate their reality in their heads. Before they even know it, an entire hour goes by in a flash. Zoro has already introduced himself and got their names. He excuses himself to check on his patient. Robin sticks to his side to help. Sanji looks away from them to look out the window.

When is Law going to get them out of this?

  
“J?”

He turns to face his friend Luffy, who is sitting next to him. Luffy doesn’t smile like he usually does when he tries to buy his way to Sanji’s good graces.

“It must have been hard on you,” he sighs.

“It was hard on all of us,” Sanji tells him.

“Right.” He nods. “I know, but, well, you know…”

See? This is exactly why he can’t stand him anymore.

“Because I’m sick?” he urges. “Because I break easily?”

Their commotion garners unwanted attention as everyone listens to what they’re saying.

“That’s not what I meant. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Luffy tilts his head in an attempt to mollify his friend’s anger.

“Just…” He lifts his hand. “Just stop, okay? I don’t think I have the heart to hear it, whatever it is you want to say. I’m tired. I want to lie down, so if you don’t mind–” He ushers his friend to the seat away from him.

The other sighs. “What about your shot?”

“I’m not disabled. I can do it myself, thank you very much.”

Luffy looks hurt. He lingers long enough for Sanji to take his words back, but he doesn’t. Luffy leaves him alone.

Zoro watches as Sanji rummages inside some bag. He watches as he takes a syringe and a little bottle, and hides them in his pocket. He gets up to his feet to tell them that nature is calling. They insist that he stays inside and holds it in.

Robin stands by the door to stop him. “If we open this door, the killer could get inside. He could still be out there.”

Sanji gives her a proud smirk. “I thought there’s no killer whatsoever.”

“Don’t be a wise ass now Sanji.” Nami approaches him from behind. “Just hold it in until we get out of here.”

Sanji presses his lips momentarily in exasperation. “Out of my way,” he orders Robin as he pushes her gently to the side when she refuses to budge. Nami grabs Sanji by the shoulders and turns him around only to slam him against the door. “I don’t care if your bladder bursts, you’re not opening this door. You get that?”

The reason why Sanji wants to get out is not to pee by the back tire or get some fresh air; he needs to get out because he’s feeling nauseated and dizzy. He must get it out of his stomach if he wants to feel relief again. “Move.”

Nami watches as Sanji’s face pales, but that doesn’t stop her from immobilizing him as he fights and struggles in her hold. Nami finds no other option but to slap him so he can calm down. The rest are making a total commotion. When she lifts her palmed-out hand, Zoro grabs it.

“What’re you doing?” Nami said in reproach.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Zoro tightens his grip and ushers to Sanji with his head. “Seriously, you really want to have a go at him? Can’t you see he’s feeling sick?”

Sanji pulls away from them and staggers to the driver’s seat, leaning on the steering wheel heavily. When Zoro tries to come closer, Sanji amazes himself when he shouts at him. “Just, stay away from me for now, please.”

They all watch as he takes out the syringe, and fills it with whatever substance is inside the bottle. He gives himself a shot through the side of his upper arm. He leans back on the headrest, sighing very tiredly.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**AN: Graphic depiction of a seizure.**

It’s been a few hours since the chaos subsided, and everyone slid into their own thoughts. The sky has gotten quite dark, and Usopp is still sleeping the pain off.

Zoro is currently supervising his patient’s condition, Robin is hovering by his side, Nami is snuggling in her seat, and Luffy is on the floor sky gazing through the window on the side. Sanji, though, he’s still sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to figure out how to get them out of this mess. He’s hoping that whoever shot Usopp has at least a little consideration, and that’s a stupid thing to hope for since the perpetrator shot a young man in cold blood. But he will keep the hope because getting attacked in the middle of the night when they’re fresh out of ideas would be a cruel fate. He glances over his shoulders and takes in the scene of everyone praying that the night would end quickly so they don’t end up like Usopp, who is miserable and in pain. There was one time when Zoro said that his patient was not in pain, that it was just the fever and it might be a sign of an infection starting to spread out, so they needed to be careful. If Frank and Law don’t get into town by today, they’re all ruined. There won’t be anyone to get them out of this, and that’s a thought Sanji doesn’t want to consider yet. Judging by their reaction to Usopp getting shot by an arrow, he knows they wouldn’t stand a chance out in the open for more than a couple of days. He only gives it two days because Usopp has already proved to be a liability.

Christ, what was he thinking? Usopp isn’t a liability, he’s a person.

He is a person who proved to be quite the dick-bag in more than an occasion, but he’s still a person. Now he’s shot and is obviously in a lot of pain, and it’s natural to feel for him.

 

Sanji’s hungry.

He’s starting to feel the grumbling of his stomach growing louder. There’s very little food left, and he isn’t about to bum a slime-bag attitude off them by bringing up his medical condition. He’s already taken his shot and sleeping without food for one night isn’t going to kill anyone.

And just like that, the night morphs into the morning.

They wake up at the sound of Usopp coughing. Sanji peeks from his place to see Zoro lifting up from his seat and is soon at Usopp’s side. He is bombarding him with questions and ghosting his hands over his chest to look for any other injuries. They all watch as their wounded friend looks at them through slanted eyes, looking grateful to be alive.

“Get me some water,” Zoro orders fervently. “I have to wash around the wound and change his dressing, anyone?”

There are only a couple of bottles that contain water, and they are half empty too. It’s only a matter of time now until they all start feeling the lack of liquids and food taking its toll on them.

Zoro takes the bottles from them and makes do with what they have. “I’m gonna have to clean around the wound at least twice a day. Do you honestly expect me to make do every single time?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Robin reminds. “Anyone of us could get shot the moment they walk outta that door.”

Zoro’s eyes look up, evidently furious. “He’s feverish and he’s in pain. He has to keep hydrated, and the painkiller doses aren’t really helping,” he bites out, spitefully. “I need to keep this wound clean, or it might get infected. Unless you want your friend here to die because you’re scared of your own shadow, I suggest you let us out so we can at least get the job done.”

“Once you get out you’ve sentenced yourself to death,” Nami said. “Now, I’m sorry about Usopp, but let’s wait a little longer. Law and Frank must have reached the town by now.”

At this, Zoro lets out a weary sigh and looks away from them, and his eyes fall on Sanji’s. The two of them share a thoughtful glance before Sanji lifts to his feet. “Alright, give me the empty bottles.”

Nami curses under her breath before standing up. “Hey, Sanji.” she starts, and there’s clear exasperation in her voice. “Don’t think you can go about just because you have epilepsy." At this, Robin starts pulling her from the elbow so she’d drop it. Apparently, it only fuels her anger as she wrenches her arm from Robin’s hand. “I call the shots here. When I say no one gets out of the van, I mean no one, not even you.”

Sanji looks cynical; he feels cynical. He wants to laugh at the other’s face, ask her what’s so scary about death that has her biting her nails. It’s annoying, but he refrains and makes to fetch the bottles by himself instead.

When it dawns on Nami that she’s just been ignored, a feeling of intense wrath vibrates through her, and she goes after him, intent on settling things with her own hands again. The rest is prompted, and they immediately lift up, waiting, but inwardly anticipating the outcome of Nami’s sudden outburst. Only Luffy and Zoro leapt up alarmed, keeping their guards up so that even if Nami decides to do something, they’d stop her.

“You think you’re better than us, is that it?” she taunts as Sanji collects the scattered empty bottles. “Well, you’re not getting any different treatment even if you’re handicapped, you hear me? If you open that door, I’m not letting you in again.”

Sanji huffs and wets his lips before turning around to face her. “Are you done?”

Nami gets provoked, and Sanji is glaring head-on back at her. Robin then pops up, trying to smooth things out between them before their conflict escalates, but Nami is not taking her eyes off Sanji’s. Without any warnings, she throws a punch but Sanji throws the bottles at her, seizes the chance when Nami dodges to give her a vigorous shove. However, it’s not strong enough to make the other tip over. When she recovers from the tumble that nearly had her taking a back dive on the seats, Nami looks up looking like all hell broke loose, which, with all things considered, it really might have.

Top notch ‘oops’ right there, Sanji thinks bemused.

“You retarded asshole!” Nami fumes, glancing over at the melee of her friends in the cramped van. “You think this is funny?”

“I don’t.” Sanji simply shrugs. “But I think you do.”

Nami’s tendons jut out, and she bugs out her eyes at the other. “You want to die?” she dares. “Alright,” she says, now grabbing Sanji by the arm and ignoring how everyone is trying to talk her out of it because, basically, violence doesn't solve violence. But Nami is adamant on settling the score with her hands, and she keeps on pulling the other like a sack of potatoes.

Finally, Sanji’s patience snaps. He grabs that hand on his forearm, turns it to spin Nami around and then he pushes her down on the seats next to them. He straddles her back, “I think I’ve had it up to here with your scaredy cat attitude,” he says atop her. “You’re starting to be annoying.”

“Lay off me, you retard!” Nami twists and wriggles beneath him. “Okay, fine!” she hisses. “Get out, but don’t expect to come back in once you leave.”

Sanji shoves her a little just to make a point, and he finally lifts off to start collecting the scattered bottles. Nami straightens up, now looking away from everyone’s appraising looks. Sanji opens the door and walks out after inspecting his surroundings. Then he makes his way back to the river he was at the day before. It’s quite bothersome how he had to choose between two difficult things. Holing up inside the van or going out to fetch water was like choosing between AIDS and Cancer. They both might end up with him dead. And the way Nami is dealing would have been catastrophic if it wasn’t for some of them who are still able to see the bigger picture. Yes, their life could be in danger, but how are they supposed to survive if they never get out of the van? It’s not Nami’s fault that she’s scared. It’s only natural not to want to die, especially not in the middle of nowhere in the outskirts of no-name town. Sanji hogs the blame. Even if something were to happen to him while he fills up the bottles for everyone else, it would still be on him. However, when he comes back, he finds his friend Luffy and Zoro standing outside the van, their eyes on the mountains surrounding them. They straighten up when he clears his throat.

“What’ you guys doing outside?” he asks, now knocking on the door of the van.

Zoro was crouched beside a tire and has now leveled up to his feet. He hides his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I’m not their pal,” he says. “They can’t lock me up if I don’t want it.”

Sanji tries to read that scowl over the other’s face, but, well, whatever.

Luffy then approaches them. “Actually,” he drones. “He threatened Nami that if she doesn’t allow you back in he wouldn’t supervise Usopp’s condition.” He glances over at Zoro between the words. “And there’s no way I’m leaving you to stay out while I hole up back inside.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Sanji sighs. “It’s dangerous out here,” he hints this to Zoro. “If you really care about your patient then you should stay inside the van. You won’t be any help if you’re shot too.”

“Sanji.” A look of concern furrows Luffy’s brows. “He just wanted to help.”

Zoro lifts conciliating hands. “It’s alright,” he tells him. “He is right.” He lets out a small sigh. “But Sanji,” –He looks back into the other’s eyes– “They were already preventing us from getting water, and that’s basically not letting me do my job, so Usopp’s case is a bummer either way.”

Sanji snakes his tongue out just a tiny bit, suppressing his anger towards everyone inside the van. Speaking of which, why aren’t they opening the door? He gives it a few more raps that rattle its structure. “Nami!” He pounds the door now. “Open up!”

Judging by the silence that follows, the trio outside guesses that Nami must have given her friends instructions not to open the door for the suicidal ones. Sanji concludes that if Nami is so adamant on leaving them outside, then damn straight she will. He just sighs with evident frustration and throws a few bottles through the window. He keeps a few for them since it’s scorching hot outside. They take seats between two large trunks of two large trees, and they watch the world as the crickets’ buzzing grows louder. The birds fly randomly above.

“So long as we keep cover,” Luffy starts. “He won’t hurt us.”

Sanji looks up with little annoyance. It’s sweltering hot, he’s sweating, and he’s hungry. They all are. Excuse him if taking it out on Luffy is terrible, but at least it seems to mollify some of the stress pressing on his chest. “Sure hope so, but Lu,” he starts. “If the asshole was able to shoot Usopp from a 500 meters’ distance with a freaking arrow, then he can shoot about anyone because he’s a pro.”

“But if we take cover,” Luffy instigates but doesn’t add anything else because it’s already clear.

“He doesn’t look like he has problems with angles either.” He looks ahead now, narrowing his eyes because the sun’s harsh glare. “He’d have already killed us if he really wanted us dead.”

“Now, that’s a scary thing to say,” Zoro scoffs. “And I’m still trying to tell myself that it was a reckless shooting. Someone was probably stalking deer or shooting birds. Usopp was just unlucky,” he says. “I did find animal carcasses scattered inside the woods, so maybe they were hunters?”

“It still doesn’t add up.” Luffy shrugs. “But, whatever,” he groans. “I just hope Law and Frankie are fine and already in that town. I’m _so_ at the end of my rope you don’t even know.”

“So you guys already sent for help.” Zoro nods. “Then that’s a huge relief. I hope they're on their way now; I certainly don’t want this nomadic lifestyle for myself anymore.”

Sanji isn’t that optimistic though.

His friend and Zoro chat more about the hiking and concert, which was the reason all this happened. Sanji leans back on the tree trunk, closing his eyes to nap. He hears Zoro ask his friend about him, about his medical condition, and if there’s something they should worry about. Sanji, knowing that Luffy tends to spill things once he feels comfortable with someone, cuts him off. "It's nothing you should worry about. And that's it."

The afternoon finds them hungry and sweating their balls of.

Sanji decides to go full-on caveman mode since Nami is keeping the van on lockdown. He breaks some branches and throws them to the ground. Before telling them what to do with them, he takes out his keychain that has a folding knife attached to it and asks “What do you guys think about spearfishing?” He smiles conceitedly at them as they gawk in return. “I’m hungry, and I bet everyone is.” He says, now taking one of the branches and using his folding knife to graze it at the head. “I’m not quite sure it’s going to come out good but DIY spears aren’t an everyday activity back at home, and the head of the arrow that bastard shot at Usopp could be a lot of help. I don’t suppose Nami is going to let us go in and get it, so let’s do our best.” With that, he focuses back on his piece of wood and tries to craft it in a way that can make the spear work.

Zoro and Luffy exchange an amused look before smiling at Sanji’s sudden ‘look at the bright side’ attitude. Luffy fumbles with his clothes and comes out with a metal nail clipper. Zoro does the same and comes out with his dog tag. They try to make do with those.

Then Sanji tears off the hem of his shirt, and uses it to wrap the blade on the head of the makeshift spear. He looks quite proud of his little achievement and quickly lifts off to his feet. “Alright,” he gushes. “But you guys know we’re fishing, so it’s best if you cut the head of the spear into three sharp parts.”

“And what about the one you made?” Zoro asks, bemused.

“This.” He examines his handiwork. “This is a hunting spear.” He looks at them now. “Let’s hope there are rabbits out there,” he sighs. He adds on a mumble, “I wanna eat roasted rabbit for dinner.”

Despite their fears of getting attacked and shot at any second, they decide death is just a milestone in your road. Although it should be the last one after you’ve lived and had all the fun you could get, but that's a luxury they don’t currently have. They head to the river and try to catch fish because it turns out Zoro is quite a humdinger comedian. Luffy is having the fun of his life as Zoro and Sanji get at each other’s throats. The latter doesn’t want to get soaked, so he stays by the bank, trying to catch sight of any rabbits though he knows they don’t get attracted to the ruckus, and nor does the fish.

“Guys,” he breathes out heavily. “If you keep playing around you’re not going to get anything done. Now quit splashing the water everywhere, you’re only disturbing the fish like that.”

Zoro smiles thinly at Luffy who shrugs in a gesture that suggests they heed his orders before he flips. Sanji tells them he must go in deeper into the woods. Even with the other two reprimanding and warning, he tells them he’ll be careful, and he will try not to stray further from them.

Luffy’s come a long way in the past two nights alone, giving him a breather and letting him handle things on his own and not treating him with kid gloves anymore. Though his worried gaze keeps following Sanji in an almost nagging way, he at least admires his courage, so that’s something.

He’s trudging through the grove of trees, eyes full and cautious and his grip cramping on the handmade spear. He hears a few dry twigs get crunched here and there with some distant rustling. After inspecting around like a compass, he rules it’s some animal that is also fed up with summer heat. So instead of walking the opposite direction, he walks right to the source of the noises. His face lightens up when he sees a single wild rabbit hopping around astray. Sanji lifts his spear and gets ready to shoot it, but another twig breaks somewhere and the rabbit perks up and flees away altogether. Sanji races after it, not caring about stealth and smoothness anymore. The rabbit takes a turn into the bushes, and Sanji still follows it after jumping over the shrubs like a mountain goat and piercing the air with his spear, not caring where it landed.

When he recovers from the fall, he pauses, sitting completely still. Just beyond the bushes, there’s a small clearing. At the very far corner of the clearing, a man in beige and brown clothes is dragging a body. Sanji’s heart almost rises to his mouth because, after another searching glance, he can tell the body that’s covered in blood and leaves is Frank, looking dead. He feels sudden anger almost blind him on the spot. His hands start ghosting over the ground, probing for his pocket knife. He will kill that son of a bitch. He will end their nightmare now and today. He will take Frank back to his family, and pour his heart in a heartbreaking obituary. Another man comes out between the trees and helps drag the body, Sanji’s hopes shatter to pieces as he watches with awe.

There’s too much blood on Frank’s face. Sanji is sure that even if he’s alive and if he gets him out of there, Frank’s brain is going to sustain the most damage, and he might spend his life in a wheelchair. God damn, what is he thinking in a critical time like this! He must do something, he… And then Frank groans. The sound is curdling with blood down his throat. Sanji laughs and cries in a whisper, because that groan is a new light of hope that flickers for another chance. Sanji feels happy. Frank is alive, and that’s all that matters. But as Frank wakes up more, he starts lashing and trying to wiggle away from the hands lifting him from the wrists and ankles. The man who’s just joined the other pauses in his tracks, and Sanji’s gut lurches in instant horror. The man takes a machete out of the scabbard that’s wrapped around his middle– which Sanji thought was a poleax at first, and he lifts it over his head to stab Frank’s neck. Frank lifts his hands to protect his neck but they get gored instead, again and again. When the nightmare seems to finally end, Frank drops down, unmoving like a ragdoll.

“You didn’t have to chop his hands off, genius.” The man in the beige says, “Now we have to carry him, what a bummer.”

The other shrugs. “He was giving us trouble,” he says. “I hate trouble.”

When he got on the van a few days ago, he never even envisaged crouching with wobbly legs behind dust-smelling shrubs, and watching with trembling doe eyes as Frank, one of the passengers and Luffy’s friend, gets slashed to death.

The uneven pattern of his shallow breaths drowns out the eerily normal silence of the woods as he watches how those men, undeterred by the unmoving body, lift Frank by the armpits and the knees, and skirt towards the trees, disappearing at last. Sanji looks around shaken and pale. The funny thing is he finds the wild rabbit poised next to his feet, dead.

When he walks back aimlessly, he starts thinking whether he should tell the others. Should he just come out and tell them how Frank got brutally amputated and mutilated, or should he keep quiet until their turn comes? How’s he supposed to tell them that they might end up like one of the animal carcasses Zoro talked about? No, his friends are already dealing with lack of water and food. Their neurons are almost shooting through the sky. They will go hysterical if they find out about this. But they have a right to know as well, whether it scars them or it scares them. He doesn’t care as long as the messenger does his job. He’ll just tell them to gear up; they can beat those two other men if they unite. Strength in unity, right?

When he reaches the spot where he left Zoro and Luffy, he finds them relaxing by the bank with a heap of fish flopping on the dirt. They fished so many. Sanji wants to turn back rather than face them after what he’s just witnessed. He wants to keep running and running until he’s across the earth and doesn’t have to meet their reproaching eyes, their accusatory looks that will malign him. Why didn’t you save Frank? Why did you leave him behind and run?

Sanji looks down with a pained face.

He tries to even out his breathing, and calm his voice to keep from sobbing. He squares his shoulders and heads their way. They look up at him, and the first thing they see is the wild rabbit dangling down the spear.

“You actually caught one!” Luffy bursts out laughing, bowing down to laugh some more. It makes Zoro chuckle too.

Looking at them now, Sanji knows he could never be able to say anything. He finds himself slowly dropping his gaze, and then looking away to give a half-smile.

But apparently, Zoro picks up on it. “Hey,” he starts, tilting his head to get a glimpse of the other’s face that is being obscured by his fringes. “You look a little pale, are you okay?”

That’s when Luffy studies his friend, and he asks the same question. Sanji shakes his head in a half-hearted manner and tells them it was just the rabbit’s fault for making him break a sweat.

“So I suppose you didn’t clean the fish?” he asks, throwing the others off his rail. “You guys know that we need to scale, skin, and gut the fish before we eat it, right?” They only stare innocently at him, so he sighs and puts the rabbit with the spear onto the ground. “You’re not getting off this nasty work,” he tells them. “Come on. Give me a hand if you want to eat.”

After he shows them the ropes, he volunteers to skin the rabbit –the nastier job. The blood that soon pumps from the neck wound of the rabbit takes Sanji back to the clearing, and to Yu’s hands that got gored like a piece of log getting axed. He suddenly feels the bile rising and the color drain from his face. He staggers away from the mess, lifting a hand to hide his mouth if something did come out. However, the blood and hair on his hands from slicing the rabbit’s neck open, force the meager contents of his stomach out.

Luffy is soon by his side, rubbing his back in circles as Sanji heaves beside a tree, retching with visible force even though there’s nothing left in his stomach to throw up. He takes the bottle from him and waves his heavy nausea off as being tired from skidding through the woods, but his breathy voice leaves them with little suspicion. The last thing Sanji wants is to come across as weak, or worse, fragile. He tells his friend to stop hovering. Although he sees the hint of hurt at his gentle treatment being rejected harshly, Sanji doesn’t do anything to right things between them. He knows Luffy’s always ready for Sanji to worry him. He doesn’t want to worry him, would rather not. It’s about damn time Luffy stops taking care of him and starts looking after himself a little. Whatever, Sanji needs **–** he _has_ a lot to do. His list is growing more prominent but they’re short on time.

They all finish and Zoro sounds quite proud of his and Luffy’s work so far. For now, they should head back and share the food with everyone. Because he still had to put the fish in hand-made skewers, Sanji was grateful that Zoro knew how to build a campfire hence saving him the trouble of having to do it himself. The ones in the van start peering out of the windows. They’re lured by the smell of fish fillets cooked over a decent-looking campfire. He tries to rope them in by telling them to join in, grab a bite. But Nami pushes Robin off the windows, and it saddens Sanji. Whatever, Nami will taste the other’s wrath eventually because a bossed-around Robin is probably more dangerous than the psycho culprits. And it dawns on him that it’s a damn poor choice of words.

Not even five minutes go by when the door of the van gets pushed open and Robin comes out running. For a start, she might have come running so that even if someone were to shoot an arrow at her direction, they’d fail. Nobody can get a clear shot on moving objects. And to finish, she was probably tired of Nami’s hard streak of false vanity because she’s just crushed her ego by choosing food over her words of safety and assurance inside the van.

Sanji is frantically delighted. He can do without the self-flagellation, and just enjoy the company if it lasts. He doesn’t know what will happen after today, or if they are even going to live through the night to see another day. If they’re together, giving each other sanctuary from the predators that come in the form of cold-blooded killers, who are waiting for the perfect chance to make them join Frank, it will make the nightmare a little easier to go through, hopefully. Everyone is eating and commenting on how they’d gobble down their mothers’ food once they’re saved because Frank and Law have probably made it to the town. Sanji suddenly pauses. Should he tell them now? Would it be wise to strip them away from their only hope by dropping the bomb? Just what is he supposed to do?

“… J? Sanji?” Luffy is the one calling him out. When he glances up at him, Luffy wants to know why he stopped eating altogether.

He looks around at every one of them. The nightmarish words on the tip of his tongue, and it hurts to see them look so expectant. Sanji looks at the food again and decides to take some for Usopp. “He needs some food in him too.” The others agree but can’t quite be sure that that is all that he wanted to say, but not that it matters. The food smells good.

When Nami finally accepts to open the door for him so he could give food to Usopp, Sanji walks into the van and crouches beside the injured one, waking him up gently. He helps him eat, and although Usopp is taking his sweet time chewing the food, Sanji tolerates it because he’s already had his share. It wouldn’t hurt to help someone who can’t even sit upright just yet seeing how his chest is still swathed with bandages. Besides, being able to help someone rather than getting helped feels really good. It gives his spirit a boost and right now he feels like nothing can stop him. He looks over at Nami who is perched by the door, peering at her friends joined in one circle, stuffing their stomachs and squabbling over freshwater. Sanji can’t stand it anymore.

“Trying to stay alive is a priority, Nami,” he starts. “But in times like these it’s best if you try to have fun with your friends.”

The other’s eyes look back at him, and she leans back on the headrest of the seat behind. “Fun?” she echoes, trepidation and derision both twanging in her tone. “There’s a psycho out there who’s trying to kill us in case you didn’t notice.”

Sanji sighs. “I know,” he said. “I’m aware of that.”

“And your great plan is to have fun?” she scoffs again, a little enraged.

“Or you can mope here by yourself, see if anyone gives a damn,” Sanji shrugs, “personally, I don’t.” At this, he helps Usopp to another bite. “Maybe we _are_ going to die, but I certainly wouldn’t spend my last breath in a van, waiting for someone to come and rescue me. And before you get all huffy and puffy on me, I want you to know that spit-roasted rabbit and grilled fish could be our last meal. So Nami” –he looks away from Usopp as well because the threatening tears fall– “get rid of that hard streak you have. Go out there, talk to your friends.”

He hears the other swearing under her breath after a few long seconds spent in complete silence. The door rattles open, and Nami finally leaves. Sanji’s eyes roam about the van’s interior a little aimlessly before looking back at Usopp.

“I’m sorry,” Usopp says softly, his voice merely a rasp. Sanji shushes him, tells him to save his energy. Usopp shakes off the other’s hands and repeats his apology with tears streaming down his eyes this time. “I’m sorry for making fun of you the other day,” he says. “I wish your heart weren’t this big, I wish you punched me the minute I blurted it out.” He breaks into a sob and Sanji begs him to “just… stop, please.” He probably had a point because Usopp sobs turn into a sudden fit of coughing so Sanji finds himself obliged to look around for a water bottle.

He searches around fervently, and he finds one by Zoro’s bag. He goes to fetch it but his fingers pull on the straps as well, and the bag tilts over and falls. Sanji returns to the emergency at hand, lifting the other a little up to help him drink. Usopp finally relaxes and falls back to sleep. Sanji collapses on his haunches, relieved that he was quick or the other could have choked on his saliva. He makes to rub his nape, and that’s when he sees it, the lopsided bag, showing some of its contents. He crawls towards it, keeping an eye on the door from time to time. And that’s when he finds a digital object that looks somewhere between a two-way radio and a MURS. Sanji’s heart gives an abrupt jolt, and the hair on his neck bristles.

“What’ you doing?”

He spins his head around, finding Zoro by the door. “Uh,” he gives a nervous cough. “Usopp was feeling a lot of pain, didn’t know what to give him and he sort of passed out.” He hopes Zoro doesn’t pick on the fact that he was snooping, and he just got caught.

Zoro eyes the wheezing man with a frown, taking in the beaded sweat on his forehead that signifies that he is indeed in pain. “He shouldn’t be in so much pain,” he says, now approaching the two. “His vitals weren’t even hit.”

“Just a guess,” Sanji starts, “but cracked ribs must be a bitch.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and squats beside Sanji. “You can leave it to me now,” he says. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“No problem,” Sanji shrugs, now levering up to his feet and slowly backing away from the two. He hears the scuffle of feet and Luffy is soon barging in, panting. “Guys,” he clears his throat after he swallows hastily, “little help here?”

Sanji looks from the door back to Zoro, who is already looking up at him with an arched brow. They both dart towards the door and go outside, finding Nami and Robin yelling at each other.

“What the hell, a girls’ fight?” Sanji says half-heartedly.

The way Zoro’s shoulders stiffen at the scene raises Sanji’s alarms. He takes in the deepening divots in his cheeks and the dark glimmer in his eyes, signifying the man’s worry; a worry for something that isn’t the fight or the girls. But when he goes to ask, the man faces away, not willing to talk.

 It stops at that as Nami gives her friend a slap across the face, Sanji ignores Zoro and dashes to stop them. He hears Nami calling bull because she’s being accused unjustly of stealing the other’s music player. She lifts a fisted hand to give a hook, but Sanji throws himself in between them and he gets smacked instead.

“What are you two doing?”

Nami points an index at Robin. “She’s throwing accusations at me without any proof.”

“The fact that Zoro saw you is enough of a proof!” she bellows. “You bitch!”

“He’s lying!” Nami grinds out, “I didn’t steal anything!”

Robin gives a hysterical laugh. “You lying bitch!” she shouts, now making to hit her with one of the campfire poles, but Zoro stops the movement midair. “You two need to calm down,” he says, “or you might hurt someone.”

Nami grits her teeth as her eyes flash a glare at the taller male, and she gives his hand a hefty shove before heading to the van. When they ask where she is going, she shouts, “Going back home!”

Sanji fears her actions in a moment of anger, so he follows her. Just when his hand is almost at Nami’s arm, she slips into the van and closes the door. The engine revs and sputters a cough before finally coming to life with a rumble, headlights beaming. She ignores how they’re telling her to stop because the vehicle isn’t functioning, and it might overturn because of the ‘deflated’ tire. She stomps on the accelerator. The van moves and proceeds down the dirt road.

Sanji races closely behind, waving his hands at the view rear mirror as if he’s bringing an F6 jet in for landing on a carrier. He doesn’t notice Zoro rushing after him until after he pulls him by the elbow. The two of them fall to the ground with Sanji straddling the other.

In an expected beat, a blinding light like a sunbeam flashes, followed by a reverberating muffled rumble that sends the blasted debris upward. Soon it graduates to a massive fire eruption, sending a shockwave that blows away whatsoever is unfortunate enough to get in its path. Sanji’s hair, along with his torn shirt, ruffle at the impact of the powerful wind. He feels Zoro wrapping an arm around his back and the other around his head, bringing him closer to shelter him. Bit by bit, the sound of the explosion gets ebbed to cracking and popping .

When Sanji looks up from Zoro’s shoulder, he finds Luffy groaning. The campfire is scattered on the ground, and the rest of the group is skulking towards the safety by the trees. Sanji and Zoro finally sit up, and the harrowing scene of the van being eaten by fire and smoke makes Sanji freeze on the spot.

“…leave…”

He hears the other man’s muffled voice and can feel him hoisting him up.

“...might be… killed… we need to….”

Sanji doesn’t care.

Usopp and Nami were both in that van when it got blown up, and Sanji can’t even think of a worse ending than that.

A loud guttural scream is what finally takes him out of it as Luffy comes closer to them teetering with shock and hopelessness. “No!” He cries out, the tears getting smeared with smoke over his cheeks. “Nami! Oh my God!”

Sanji lifts up like a hypnotized zombie. He wobbles his way towards his friend and takes him in a hug as the latter sobs his heart out.

“Why!” He whimpers, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Oh God why!”

Sanji hugs him tighter. Just hearing those pained cries makes his heart break and without even realizing it, he finds himself shedding tears as well.

They suddenly hear a deep groan, and a dark silhouette looms in beyond the smoke. They wait in anticipation as their eyes slowly start to lighten up.

Nami is heading their way, covered in dirt and soot.

They cry out happily and take Nami into their arms, hugging her and showing her how glad they are that she didn’t get caught up in the explosion.

“But how?” Luffy wonders loudly.

“After I turned the ignition on, something started to tick,” she says, “I quickly opened the door and jumped out.”

They admire her fearlessness and cheer on her quick wittiness. She shies under the brunt of the compliments, still a little shaken from the surge of adrenaline.

“Guys,” Zoro steers their attention to him now. “They could still be out there, let’s get out of here!”

Sanji nods. They make their way to Robin and he tells them to buckle up because they’re making a run for it. Robin shakes her head, pale and shocked. “This is the safest place to be at right now,” she mumbles, now wrapping her arms around herself. “Whoever blew up the van can’t get to us as long as we take cover here.”

“Robin!” Zoro bawls, grabbing her by his forearm and giving her a firm shake. “You’re not getting cold feet now of all times!”

Nami jumps into the other’s personal space. “Leave her alone!”

“Seriously?” Zoro’s scoff is a little exasperated. “Are we seriously going to do this?”

Robin wilts to the background as the other two glare each other.

“This is not the time for this,” Sanji seethes, stomping closer to the duo in high dudgeon. “We’re in this together; being at each other’s throats now is pretty inconvenient and unproductive. Don't you think?”

Just as Nami starts to look away and contemplate Sanji’s words of unity, they hear Zoro's shriek followed by the muffled thud of a body hitting the ground. Everyone ducks and attentively eyes their surroundings with bated breath. Sanji dives to his knees to assess their predicament, kneeling beside Zoro who is gasping now. He tries to inspect the wound, but Zoro’s hand doesn’t allow it.

“Zoro,” he snarls, “you have to let me see.”

They both know that once Zoro removes his hand, the blood is going to ooze out. The only supplies that could stop the bleeding were in the van and the van is out of commission now. But they can always make do. Sanji is going to make sure of it. Slowly, Zoro lifts his hand off showing a nasty puncture wound around the bicep. Sanji finds himself panting so fast. A full-fledged hyperventilation promising a sudden lambasting from Luffy about his lack of self-care, and he is so not ready for that.

“Zoro, it’s a…” he wipes his face with a sweaty and shaky hand. “It’s a gunshot wound.” And he’s not sure whether Zoro pales at the news or the resultant blood loss. He faces the others. “Would it be insensible of me if I sent you guys first?”

Luffy shoots closer. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Sanji doesn’t want him to either, but it’s probably safer for everyone if they don’t herd to the same spot and attract unnecessary attention that is bound to get them all killed.

“I have to take the bullet out,” he says over his shoulder as he takes out his folding knife from his back pocket. “We might get attacked while you’re all waiting, so better safe than sorry,” he says. “Go before us. At least you get to have a head start; we’ll be following very soon.”

Zoro looks at him with something akin to bewilderment. “You should leave too,” he tells him. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

Sanji is a little lost as he keeps on taking in the glint in the other’s eyes. Soon he figures they’re tears of pain that have welled up, and that decides for him. “Nami,” he finally looks away. “Give me your lighter and then lead the rest into the woods. Try to be as stealthy as possible.”

Nami heeds his order and gives him her disposable lighter. After sharing one last glance, Luffy pulls Robin and Nami and starts shoving them ahead, because for some reason, their eyes can’t leave Sanji’s. He mouths ‘we’ll meet soon’ to them with a reassuring smile.

He watches as they disappear between the trees, and then he picks up his pocket knife again, before flicking the spark wheel once, twice; nothing. His sweaty hands aren’t exactly helping, and he curses every single time.

Zoro snatches the lighter from him and flicks the spark wheel instead with such resolution that brings the flame to life. Sanji doesn’t even feel grateful for that. He floats the knife within the flame and then looks up at Zoro. “Sit tight and enjoy the ride.”

Zoro’s smirk is grimaced.

Sanji inserts the crown of the knife into the wound, and Zoro stirs. Sanji ignores him all along because trying to keep the pain to a bare minimum isn’t on his bucket list for now. He prods deeper and finally meets the lead. He can hear Zoro groaning. One fleeting glance at his face shows him the man squeezing his eyes shut. He eventually starts digging out the bullet, and Zoro smothers an outright scream. When the bullet spurts out, Sanji scrutinizes it for any missing chunks. Thankfully, he finds none. He takes off his shirt and starts tearing it up. He leaves a part which he eventually wraps around the wound. “That ought to stop the bleeding, I’ll sew you up when we get out of here,” Sanji prompts. “Come on,” he strains as he helps Zoro up. “We need to catch up to them.”

The two skid across the dirt in a haphazard gait. Sanji keeps an eye out for any threats while checking in on Zoro now and again. Then he plunges forward, ushering Zoro to stay close. They finally catch up to Luffy and the rest huddled together beside a few bushes.

“You guys made it!” Robin rejoices. “Thank God.”

Zoro and Sanji crouch down as well. “What did you guys find out?” Sanji demands. He can feel anxiety looming closer. He knows that if he keeps mulling it over it’s going to stress his brains out, and he knows what stress does to his body.

“There are two of them,” Luffy reports. “One of them is using some sort of firearm, and the other is using a machete. A big one.” He trails off, taking notice of Sanji's undeterred expression. He can't help but get the sneaking suspicion that this is more than just his friend holding himself together. “Why aren’t you surprised?”

The other three pick up on his remark, and are soon looking toward Sanji for answers. Sweat builds on his brow as the questioning gazes burn his skin, and he breaks, looking away. He’d been trying to stave off the moment for when he had to confront them. But now that it’s time, he finds himself recoiling from the discussion.

“Sanji,” Luffy hardens his glare.

Really, it doesn’t daunt him in the least, but he owes them an explanation.

“Let’s just head somewhere safe for now,” he says, “I’ll tell you everything then.”

And as they finally accept his deal, they rise very cautiously so that the next arrow or bullet doesn’t go through their eyes. Suddenly, something alerts them when the bushes rustle. They shrink away from them, but Robin’s movement is quickly halted as a bulky hand latches onto her hair. The culprit then emerges from the shadows –a bull-necked, middle-aged man whose stomach is lopping over his belt. She nails the hand on her hair, desperate to fight her way from his clutch.

Sanji knows for certain it’ll be futile so he embarks on and tries to scrape the man’s arm with his pocket knife, just so that he’d loosen his grip for them to get Robin away from him. However, Luffy stops him midway with his hysterical crying and begging.

They all watch as the man lifts his machete and severs Robin’s head off, the arterial spray coating the surrounding area and the man’s clothes and face in blood. Nami lets out a despaired scream that shakes Sanji out of his horrified daze. Robin’s head rolling down to his feet like a soccer ball was not a really cute thing to witness. It would traumatize him for years to come –if they ever leave these woods in one piece, that is.

He quickly turns around and pulls his friend, Luffy, by the arm, adamant on fleeing the murderer.

They keep on running with no definite destination in mind, only thoughts of running away from the claws of a killer who has just beheaded a friend right in front of their eyes. The sun setting is not a great help right now. God, Sanji has no idea when this is going to end. Suddenly, an arrow shoots towards their direction and Luffy tells them to duck, which they do. They quickly pick themselves up from the improvised fall and continue to run. Nami trips and Luffy rushes back to help her up, a hand in hers as they catch up with Sanji and Zoro. Sanji can see the darkness slowly encroaching on them, and it twists his heart with agony: how the four of them are going to spend the night learning the endless chapters of survival.

Luffy is soon out of breath, and he tells them he has to rest or he will faint. Granted, Sanji can’t leave him behind so he offers to keep him company while he tells the other two to keep going. But then even Zoro flops down beside a tree, panting. “We’d all use a little rest,” he says, his sharp eyes falling on Sanji’s.

Said male feels immensely grateful, but he soon masks the delight on his face with a honed stoic expression. Nami also sits down, coughing slightly after all the running they’ve done.

“You guys think we lost’ m?” Luffy wonders, now seeking a conversation after all the slaughter they have witnessed. Especially Sanji who had the wretched fortune of seeing Frank get chopped as well.

“I don’t know,” Zoro offers, “but we’ll keep an eye out.”

“Sanji” –Luffy’s voice and eyes are so void it scares Sanji– “What’re you hiding?”

He knows there’s no escape from the question just as there’s no chance to avoid the killers, so he decides to tell them. It’s okay. At least it’d make the burden lighter. He slants back on the tree stump and lets out a full-bodied sigh. “I saw two men earlier,” he starts, “I had been tracking the rabbit when I came upon a clearing, and I saw the same two men in a clearing, dragging a body.”

The rest sits up.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you guys.” He looks over his lap. “We’d been dealing with a lot, and I didn’t wish to pile it on.”

“Did you see the body?” Zoro asks, his eyes widening.

Sanji nods, and he can’t help but cover his face with shame and sadness. “It was Frankie’s.”

“What?” he barks. “And you thought it was so smart to keep it to yourself?”

He already knew they would retaliate like this, so he looks down in shame again and lets it come to him. Luffy’s hitched gasp is what kills him.

“Where’s Law then?” He comes up to him, gripping him by the shoulders since Sanji is shirtless and there isn’t anything to keep Luffy grounded. “Where is he, Sanji?”

He shakes his head like a man who came out of war. “I don’t know,” he says, “I only saw Frank and he was already beaten to a pulp.” He doesn’t quite understand the withdrawn gesture his friend makes next: pulling away and sitting down with his knees to his chest.

“So the only ones who were supposed to send us help are… gone.” Nami comments, and that’s probably the wrong thing to say because her words have just caused them to flinch so hard.

“I didn’t see Law,” Sanji reminds in hopes to cover up for the other losses. “So maybe he made it, we don’t know for sure.”

“Alright,” Zoro tenses as he stands up, “we need to keep moving.”

“What’s the point?” Nami grits out, “I don’t even know where we are.”

“Neither do I, but I don’t see a point in sitting here and waiting to die,” Zoro drones, now inspecting everything around him. “It drops cold after sunset, so we better find a place to keep out of sight at least until the sun comes up.”

They all follow in a lethargic manner, in a way that speaks volumes of how they’re lost, or how they’re tired and _just want to go home_. They know since their families must have tried to reach them by now, they’ll soon figure out something is wrong. They will send for search and rescue, but even that could take days. They don’t have that kind of free time when a man is flaunting a machete around, and the other is shooting arrows at anything that moves. After the long trek, going up and down, creeping between trees and scrubby bushes and crossing a river (just following Zoro’s lead really), they finally come across a small cave on the other side of the river’s bank. They all feel delighted as they scurry to the safety they might find inside.

Sanji is the last to walk in, but honestly, he doesn’t want to. Right now, he needs a private place because everything that’s been happening in the past three days is finally taking its ugly toll on him and he can feel his gait getting more awkward. The little fragments of ataxia eventually want to hit him with full force, but he breathes through it. He watches as Luffy and Nami sit side by side in a corner and Zoro flips his phone open for some light. The latter then lights up an old lantern that he finds between two rocks like that was his purpose.

“They might see the light!” Luffy reproaches. “Turn the damn thing off.”

Zoro tells him they won’t and goes on his way to discover the cave.

Sanji, although muddle-headed and wobbly because his blistering migraine is back, he slowly takes his pocket knife out and lifts it up in front of his face.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Nami rebukes.

The other two look at him. His sweat-crusted face and bleary pupils momentarily slip under his lids, unfocused. His body is tottering back and forth. Soon all of them are on their feet, trying to will Sanji to put his weapon down. They’ve just found good cover for themselves from the taunting force, with which the two psychos are wreaking havoc outside, and now they have to deal with this too?

“Sanji, what are you doing?” Luffy demands, brows meeting in a frown.

He clears his throat and gulps noisily, “Get away from him.” He gestures to Zoro with his knife. Said male looks genuinely betrayed and surprised. And it doesn’t deter Sanji. “Are you deaf?” He howls at them. “Get away from him!” Zoro’s legs shift just a little, and Sanji is soon pointing the knife in his direction. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Hold on a MO!” Luffy says. “Just what is it that you think you’re doing?”

But Sanji’s eyes never leave Zoro's. “You asshole,” he starts. “You really had me fooled.”

Zoro slowly lifts his hand in a surrendering manner. “Sanji, please,” he begs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah?” Sanji scoffs, now wiping his forehead that’s glittering with more sweat. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I eventually put two and two together after I gave you the rope and you hung yourself.” He starts. “You said you were trekking, didn’t you?”

“Is that a crime now?” Zoro half laughs, his eyes glancing over to the other two for their support on this one. The other two keep silent because they want to see how this pans out.

Sanji chuckles. “No, but that’s just the thing,” he says. Zoro flashes a sad look at him, and he adds, “I didn’t find any map in your bag. Just now you told Nami you didn’t know where we were either, but you led us right to this cave. You even flaunted about how the other two aren’t going to find us even with the lights on.”

“Yes.” Zoro shrugs. “But that doesn’t prove anything,” he says. “I did come across this cave before, and I somehow managed to follow on my memory, that’s all there is.”

“Then how do you explain the two-way radio I found in your bag?” At this, Nami and Luffy snap their head to Zoro, waiting for his explanation but Sanji doesn’t even allow it. “I remember you were telling us you didn’t bring your walkie-talkie with you,” he reminds them. “He told us that with his own mouth, but I found a two-way radio in his bag just before the explosion.”

“Yes, I carried one with me.” Zoro admits. “But its battery is off, been that way for a couple of days now.”

Sanji feels his headache going up a few notches, and he knows sooner or later he’s going to be convulsing on the ground if this keeps up so he’d better wrap things up quickly. “The one who shot Usopp was the same one Robin saw, and she’s the one who told us what he was wearing.” He starts, and the others anticipate what kind of accusation will make its way out this time around. “So basically, we all learned the same information, and only today did we get to see that there’s more than one killer, but” –he smirks, his eyes still rolling under his lids and going back to focus– “You kept referring to him as they.”

Nami and Luffy slowly skid away from Zoro when he only stares blankly at Sanji.

“You knew it was more than one when we were still dealing with Usopp getting shot.” His voice is growing accusing as he talks more. “You told us about dead carcasses, but we’ve been running inside these woods for half a day and didn’t come across any. You knew the van was going to explode which is why you stopped me from getting to Usopp and Nami.”

Zoro lowers his head.

“You tried to play us from the get-go, and I gotta say, you probably have.” Sanji reveals, his voice resonating in the cave. “But you referring to the killer as them was a dead giveaway, you sick son of a bitch.” When Zoro looks up, that hint of shock and betrayal is replaced by an icy cold glare. His tongue snakes over his predacious smirk.

“You got me.”

The other two gasp in shock and approach Sanji instead.

“You work with those two?” Nami demands.

Zoro looks insulted for a moment. “Don’t lump me up with those two lowlifes,” he huffs. “I’m not as barbaric.”

“Are you serious?” Luffy yelps. “People are dead because of you, horrendously so!”

“Hey. I did save your friend, did I not?” He points his index dangerously, and Luffy winces.

“He died anyway.” Sanji rasps out, feeling the sadness tearing at his heart.

Zoro lets out a sigh and steps a little closer, but Sanji lifts his knife more and threatens to cut the other if he so much as neared them an inch. “I have to say,” he starts, “you’re smarter than you look.” Sneering now, “But not smart enough.”

At this, they hear footsteps closing in on the cave’s entrance. Luffy and Nami look around since Sanji has to keep a guarding eye on the man before him. Their breathing hitches at the possibility of the two killers finding them now, as if they weren’t dealing with enough shit to begin with.

“You really think I’m going to let you out of that entryway?” Zoro dares. When the three just stick to each other in a defending human shield, he paces about in a leisurely manner, as if he isn’t holding people captive or people didn’t die because of him. “Let me just make something clear,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to get involved. I gave my orders, and that was supposed to be about it, but then a little something happened, and I wanted to watch from the front seats.” He sighs, “I do feel bad about what happened to your friends,” he grins maliciously now. “But I’m not really sorry.”

“You asshole!” Nami growls, “You’re the mastermind behind this psycho plan to kill us one by one?”

Zoro tilts his head. “Pleasure to meet you.” His smile is cordial it makes Sanji’s already nauseated stomach lurch.

“But,” Sanji starts, “you saved Usopp’s life.” He ends it less adamantly.

After a moment where Zoro only stares amusedly at Sanji, he looks away and waves a hand. “Oh please,” he says. “I didn’t really care what was gonna happen to him, but then you were there, and I thought maybe I’d get it started with Good Samaritan charity, and you fell for it.” He smiles that conceited smile that makes the three feel like they’ve already lost the battle. “Come on, don’t look like that.” He gushes. “We’ve come so far now; I think we’re already friends!”

“Shut your trap,” Sanji bites out, “you killed my friends. You’re the one who caused all this.”

“Right.” Zoro rolls his eyes and makes an aborted movement with his hand as if to tell the other that that was a given point. “I don’t really care about that either,” he says. “But Sanji” –his sharp eyes now fall on said male’s watery ones– “you guys were already broken before I stepped in. Why do you think the conflicts sparked up lately? It’s because you guys, despite acting all friendly, can’t really stand each other.” He dampens his lips when no comeback makes its way to him. “Robin was the easiest target, I must say, being insecure all the time and all.” He points at Luffy. “You were already dangling on a rope with how your friend kept shutting you off. And Nami, your inferiority-complex is what got your miserable ass so far.”

“That’s why you told Robin that Nami stole her music player?” Luffy’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “That’s why you told me to mind my friend?” he shouts. “You were the one who played with our minds!”

“Correction,” Zoro’s voice sounds deeper this time. “I just latched onto a conflict already there.” He shrugs. “I might have hinted it to Nami that the van could still move and to Robin that her friend had her eyes on her expensive item. Also, I did tell you that your beloved friend wasn’t trusting you enough with his problems.” He was counting with his fingers before he stopped completely and looked seriously at them. “But you’re the ones who drove each other mad.”

“People are dead because of you!” Nami cries out, her eyes already teary at the mention of her dead friends. "You killed my friends!"

“Technically, I didn’t.” He shrugs, and now waving at the two killers. “Those two did.”

When the trio is so shocked that they can’t even bring their lips to move, Zoro takes them out of their misery. “Storytime over.” He claps, and it jolts the three out of their trance. “I’m tired of playing today, aren’t you?” They glare at him but Zoro doesn’t even put it into consideration as he rolls his eyes and prods his gunshot wound. “I’m covered in dirt, and my arm is killing–” At this, he looks at Sanji. “Thanks for saving me by the way.”

Sanji feels the anger taking over whatever sanity he had left. He plunges forward, wanting to erase the existence of the twisted monster he’d just saved. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Zoro chuckles provokingly. “With that?” He ushers at the pocket knife. “Cute.”

Sanji collides with the other after piercing the knife through the air, but Zoro catches his hand mid-air and tries to punch him. The adrenaline rush gives Sanji a new momentum and he feints with his right and ducks. He isn’t fighting for himself, he is fighting to save his and his friends’ lives as well. He throws a punch here and receives another. Zoro manages to kick the knife and send it airborne, spinning. Sanji makes the mistake of following the knife with his eyes and doesn’t see when Zoro moves to punch him hard on the head. Nami and Luffy can’t move because the two killers are holding them by the shoulders at gunpoint. Sanji starts hearing sirens in his head, and everything starts spinning. His nausea hits the roof, and he reels on the ground with a groan.

“You think I didn’t pick up on your symptoms?” Zoro says atop him, dusting off his shoulder to show them who the winner is and that he’s done it without breaking a sweat. “I’d see you swaying and paling. I knew it was just a matter of when before you got hit by a full-blown grand-mal since you didn’t take your meds at all today.”

Sanji’s right hand jerks, flexing itself in and out of a fist. He can hear Luffy begging to be by his side because his seizures are usually rough, but Zoro silences him with a cold glare. “Keep quiet,” he tells them, “if you make a sound, I won’t hesitate to give an order.” Once he makes sure that the two will keep quiet, he looks down at Sanji.

Sanji’s arm starts shaking violently and out of sync. His bleary eyes glancing over in a random pattern. Nami and Luffy can see terror slowly dwelling up into his eyes and fear coating his already pained expression. Sanji parts his lips to say something as his left hand clutches at his head, but all that comes out are garbled groans. Nobody understands what he is trying to say. His body is getting jerked by his arm’s strange and evidently vigorous reflexes. Soon the reflexes move to his torso as well, and he looks like he is getting pulled by the waist to one side. The others can see how Sanji looks terrified with all the eyes studying him. He keeps trying to speak as nervous ticks affect his facial movement. He makes a gurgled sound, and a choked-off whimper reverberates across the rocks. The frightened look in his eyes is slowly replaced by a glassy veil that just looks so distant, and that’s where Luffy’s fear intensifies. His entire body starts twitching. Small tremors traveling up and down across his body as he keeps on whimpering and wheezing, unable to stop the convulsions.

Zoro looms into Sanji’s eyeshot, curious and anticipant. The close-up look tells him precisely what he needed. “His eyes are dilated.”

The revelation makes the others want to get closer and get a clear image of what’s going on to Sanji, but only Zoro was allowed closer.

Sanji’s eyes are narrowing now as his jaw ticks, and his fingers tighten over his chest. He grunts in pain again as he keeps on convulsing. Just as Luffy started to believe that maybe his friend wasn’t going to have a tonic-clonic. If he’d just ride out these convulsions, he’d cross to the safe side soon and would come out of it disoriented – a little bruised, yes – but fine nonetheless. A severe spasm assaults Sanji’s right side along with his right limbs. He makes short sharp gasps, and his eyes no longer focus. They simply close.

“It’s happening,” Zoro comments and the rest wait to see just what exactly is going to happen.

Sanji’s middle lifts from the ground. His back arches over forty degrees, and then it slams back down. His head lifts instead, but then it slams back on the ground too. Both of his arms are smacking against the ground. It keeps repeating. The movements are harsh and unrelenting, and Sanji is making deep, guttural and muffled cries. His tousled hair is whipping around as the involuntary seizing takes over him.

“Please,” Luffy croaks out. “He’s going to end up splitting his head in two if you don’t do something about it.”

The hateful look Zoro sends his way just then makes his blood run cold, and he realizes he’s just sentenced himself to death. But what he doesn’t expect is Zoro considering his instruction, and then he almost eats up Sanji with his eyes. “I know that.”

He can’t feel shocked anymore. He only cries in silence as the man lets his childhood friend break his skull against the ground.

Sanji’s entire body is flailing and thrashing. Soon, blood starts splattering out of his mouth and covering his jaw and neck as he keeps whipping his head and cracking it back against the ground. Luffy and Nami can’t look anymore. If it weren’t for the machete guy holding him up, Luffy would have been on the ground wailing.

“Shit.” Zoro grinds out, “He’s biting his tongue.”

The other two pay attention again and watch as he straddles the man withering with severe seizure just close enough to manhandle him and not to get whacked by the flailing and thrashing. Zoro takes his shirt off and balls it, placing it under Sanji’s head at fucking last. Then he quickly pulls back and stands at his earlier spot.

Luffy finally breathes a sigh of relief. At least his friend wouldn’t end up with a concussion even if they all end up hung on meat hooks. It must have been two minutes, which means Sanji’s nightmare isn’t over yet. The higher he arches, the longer it’s going to last and the more painful it’s going to be for him with its aftermath. He wonders what his fate could be now that they all got caught by one heartless man.

Zoro is still watching Sanji with, dare he say, hungry eyes that almost ravish his friend. Sanji’s body is wracked by more jolts, spasms, and convulsions. Blood continues to spurt out, and he keeps whimpering and moaning with pain.

Until he doesn’t.

Sanji slumps to the ground, head rolling across the dirt and then lolling to one side, mouth suddenly slackened.

Nami and Luffy along with the other two killers watch intently as Zoro crouches down beside Sanji. He looks down between his legs, and he drapes an arm over his head, covering it as he starts chuckling with malice.

“'The fuck you getting hard for?” the guy with the bow and arrows scoffs. His husky voice sends a cold shudder down Nami’s spine as she remembers how he shot arrows at them and managed to kill one. But the thing he says is what makes the tremor more spoken because, after another examining look, she sees Zoro flaunting a proud hard-on.

“Fuck.” The said man lets out a deeper chuckle this time as he slowly lifts his eyes to look over Sanji. “I just came in my pants.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

His consciousness is slowly returning to him. Sanji identifies the memory foam under his back. He can hear muffled voices, and a beep, intermittent, as if coming from underwater. He drags his heavy lids open, blinking to clear the fuzzy vision as the fluorescent light assaults his pupils. The moment his bearings are intact, and he is awake enough –though a little disoriented, a vividly daunting memory flashes before him: the van, the explosion, Robin’s head rolling to his feet, blood, and more blood. Then nausea hits him like a sucker punch. He groans, rolls over, and expels the contents of his stomach: fish and roasted rabbit disintegrated by bile. The stench is so ailing, and the tang on the back of his throat is so bitter. Just as the heaving subsides, Sanji falls back on the pillow. There is a pillow under his head, and he almost hates himself for even thinking it’s fluffier than the headrest of his seat in the van. He soon realizes that he is, in fact, unclothed. At this, he fights beyond the fuzziness and disorientation to sit up and study his surroundings.

 

It’s a twenty-eight square meter, windowless room with plastered walls and a wooden door across his bed. It’d have looked mostly empty if it wasn’t for the single bed he’s currently leaning on, the DRE wave-line monitor next to it over a workbench, and the IV pole. He follows the tube of the IV bag to the nook of his arm as a needle has been injected into the flesh. His other hand’s index is prickled by a blue pulse oximeter. But what gives him the crawly feeling is the spoken itch in the crown of his penis. He peels the cover off and finds a rubber tube inserted into his meatus and connected to a PVC urine bag which is attached to the bed frame below the level of his bladder. He knows better than to mess with any of the equipment, especially the one inserted into his meatus, but a nagging feeling deep within him is upping him to break free from these tubes and needles and walk out of that door. He knows he isn’t in a hospital. Even the scent of bleached floors and bed sheets couldn’t fool him. He also knows that if he isn’t in a hospital it only means the worst of his nightmares has happened, and he’s being held in here for someone’s entertainment.

 

He plugs the needle out of his arm with a croaked hiss. The prickling oximeter is annoying, so it goes next, but the tube inside the crown of his cock is what makes him hesitate. He pokes at it to determine its depth, but it proves it’s quite deep and even reaches his bladder. He inhales in a shaken breath before pulling at it, feeling the discomfort of the tube rubbing him from the inside; he eventually leaves it before he hurts himself or causes an infection. But the urgency to leave here to find his childhood friend and Nami is far more insistent for him to ignore, so he swings his legs out of bed and makes to stand up. The room soon spins inside his head and he forces his eyes closed, willing the dizziness away. He decides he doesn’t have time to play patient as he holds on to every inanimate object on his way and skids towards the door with the urine bag in his hand.

 

He doesn’t care that he isn’t wearing anything. He doesn’t even care that a tube is dangling along with his penis. He only wants to get out. His unoccupied hand clutches at the door handle and presses it. It opens with an ominous creak. Outside, Zoro is standing there, looking back at him with cold eyes. Sanji recoils from the door, from the other man, from his eyes. He backs away very carefully as Zoro, dressed in a lab coat, walks in.

 

“So you’re up.” He drawls, the hints of a coming smirk are slowly revealing, “Took your sweet time, too.”

 

Sanji stills when he is far enough, but the uneasiness doesn’t ebb as Zoro’s loafers clack the planked floor when he approaches him.

 

“Where are Luffy and Nami?” Sanji asked in a shaky breath. “Where am I?”

 

Zoro twists the corners of his lips and tilts his head, but the movement is so fleeting before he speaks again. “For someone who almost died, you sure sound healthy.” He ignores the horrified stare aimed at him as he shrugs, spinning his index clockwise in the room. “This is your new home.”

 

Alright, Sanji gets this part, and as sick as it sounds he only ignores it because fuck you, you sick bastard. Sanji is going to leave this place and will make Zoro swallow his words when he torches this place down. “Where’s my friend?” He shoots the other a derisive glare when a sudden memory of Luffy’s crying picks at his brain.

 

“Now, now,” Zoro relents, thrusting his hands into his lab pockets. “How about you go back to bed?” He suggests. “I don’t know if those shaky legs of yours can carry you anymore. I bet you’re feeling quite groggy and–”

 

“Don’t fuck with me!” Sanji berates, fumingly.

 

The calm expression over Zoro’s face morphs into one which he can’t read: void and titles trouble. Zoro draws closer thus making Sanji back away from him again until the two are cut short by the bed. Sanji’s eyes are on Zoro’s cold ones all the way, on edge. Studying any changing signs that might tell him he’s reached the end of his life. Zoro crouches only slightly and uses a hand to probe Sanji’s inner thigh; the latter flinches from the fingers brushing against his skin. He pushes Zoro off when he feels he is being pressed down.

 

“Get your filthy hands off me!” Sanji yelps through a strained voice.

 

“Stop moving.” Zoro orders, “I have to unclip the catheter.”

 

Sanji sits motionless with his legs spread open at the edge of the bed. Zoro kneels by them after putting on disposable gloves. He resumes his work, and Sanji only watches. He is aware of the fact that he doesn’t want this man anywhere near him, but the image of him haring off between the trees when he makes a run with a urine bag is a lot more disturbing for him to allow. He watches as Zoro closes the valve of the bag because there isn’t any urine to empty. Sanji assumes that’s most likely because he wet his pants during his seizure. Zoro takes out a syringe from his pocket and pushes it into some port. Sanji watches intently as water begins to fill in the syringe.

 

“I need you to relax.” Zoro suddenly requests as he disposes of the gloves along with the urine bag and the syringe. “I’m removing it now.”

 

Sanji sits up properly, not anticipating pulling out a four or five inches tubing into his bladder. But he bears with it when one of Zoro’s gloved hands holds his cock, and the other gently pulls on the catheter. Sanji hisses at first, he lifts his eyes just briefly, finding Zoro’s wide eyes studying his grimace with something akin to hunger, Sanji’ limbs freeze. Zoro pulls on the tube more, and the movement is driving Sanji to shift to try to pull away from the burning sensation.

 

“Stay still.” Zoro’s voice is so velvety. “You might end up with internal injuries if you don’t.”

Sanji would rather jump off a cliff that overlooks a valley of flames than obey a murderer’s order, but the thought of internal injuries inside his bladder, or worse, his penis, isn’t very appealing, so he eventually acquiesces. The burning sensation remains only temporary before it leaves him completely when Zoro manages to remove all of the tube.

 

He straightens up, taking off the second pair of gloves and inspecting Sanji’s clinked face. “You’re gonna feel uncomfortable the next time you take a leak but you won’t have to endure it for too long. It eases off after a couple of days.” He says, “Also, it’s normal if you see some blood in your urine, you don’t have to panic.” Saying so, he gathers the dispersed supplies and makes for the door.

 

“I asked you a question,” Sanji says after the man, who pauses midway until he words his question again. “Where’s my friend?”

 

Zoro doesn’t give the other the answer he wants nor does he spare him a glance as he opens the door and closes it after he is outside. Sanji hears the clanging of keys before he picks on its final click. So, he’s being locked in, not that he didn’t expect it. Zoro is being so darn stupid leaving him alone with all these equipment that he sure as hell can use as an alternate for a key. He tugs at the needle of the IV tubing and plucks it out. He looks around for something to replace a wrench but eventually makes for the door when he finds none. He kneels by the door and starts picking the lock, but the realization leaves him out of breath when he finds another object inserted into the lock from the other side. He soon understands that Zoro has left the keys inside the hole so that Sanji couldn’t open it from the inside.

 

Sanji slumps on the door, defeated. He’s been outsmarted again.

 

Zoro always has the upper hand in everything, and it makes him feel like he is being drifted into the other’s pace whether he likes it or not, which he loathes. He loathes the man. Everything he does or says is loathsome. He killed his friends, and God knows what else he did to Luffy and Nami.

 

 

Sanji had come to discover an indoor bathroom when he found a camouflaged white knob blending with the same color of the walls. The bathroom was small and plain with a sink, a flush toilet and a shower faucet, nothing for him to use as a weapon for when his escape plan kicks off, because it will, by God Sanji will make it.

 

The keys jingle, a sound that sends a tremor of queasiness through Sanji’s body. Then the door to the room opens again, and Zoro saunters in without a lab coat this time. He is pushing a service trolley lined with a few dishes of food and a few cups. Sanji walks out of the bathroom, his steps calculated and careful as he approaches the bed.

 

“Don’t be so stiff,” Zoro said with a smirk after he takes in the naked man from head to toe with entertained eyes.

 

Sanji’s brows twitch a bit before he braces himself some more, tensing with apprehension and caution.

 

“Well, not that I care.” Zoro shrugs when there is nothing forthcoming. He pushes his hands into his pockets and adds “brought you some food, think you can keep it down?”

 

Sanji hardens his glare, “Where’s Luffy?”

 

Zoro lets out a small sigh before rolling his eyes, “Counter-question me again and see what happens.” He says it so flippantly but the threat is evident and daunting in there that Sanji knows better than to overlook it. Zoro’s eyes then fall on the mess Sanji made after he woke up. “You still haven’t cleaned that up?” At this, he beckons to the vomit beside the bed’s foot with his head. Sanji glances over at it fleetingly before looking back at Zoro, “I better not find it next time I’m here, or you’re gonna be cleaning it with your tongue.”

 

Sanji believes him to be psychotic enough to do it, make him clean his vomit with his tongue, so he makes an innate note to cleanse it after Zoro leaves. As yielding and as appeasing as that sounds, Sanji doesn’t think cleaning something he cast from his stomach with his tongue would be any less humiliating, so if he is to choose between the less of two evils, damn straight he’ll choose to keep his tongue clean.

 

They hold eye contact for a brief moment before Zoro nears the bed, his sharp eyes never leaving Sanji’s, and neither is Sanji’s. Zoro takes his hands out of his pockets and sits at the edge of the bed, a leg crossing over the other as he smiles thinly. His movements are smooth and gracious that if Sanji didn’t witness the gory decapitation with his own eyes, he’d have seriously mistaken this psycho for royalty.

 

“Come here.” He pats the edge of the bed. “Sit.”

 

“You must really have a screw loose if you think I’ll do anything you tell me,” Sanji scoffs, and the vehemence in his eyes is more spoken that he has Zoro’s complete attention. “I don’t want you anywhere near me, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you either.”

 

Zoro’s smile drops and his hand precipitously darts to Sanji’s. The latter gasps and before he gets to recoil it he is being pulled and pushed to the bed, he lands on it with a deep grunt. Zoro is straddling him in a millisecond, his hands on his neck, squeezing the jutted veins back in. Sanji’s eyes snap open, red-rimmed and belligerent.

 

“Let me lay it out for you real clear,” Zoro sing-songs, his hair parachuting over Sanji’ face, and his eyes… they’re wicked. “You seem to be under the erroneous impression that I give a flying fuck about what you want. I don’t.” He shrugs in matter-of-factly, his hands squeezing more as Sanji’s tap and scratch at them to mitigate the pressure down a little. “I own you now. Your life is mine to command, whether I kill you or let you live is my decision to make.” He says, “You have privileges now because I see it fit, but the second you become trouble I’m getting rid of you without a thought.”

 

Sanji’s eyes are looking up now but more horrified than daring, he considers the other’s words for what they are, a threat he concludes. But Zoro has some other things to add so he’d end the deal as he ducks in, his nose almost touching Sanji’s.

 

“Be a good boy now and do as I say.” He drones almost in a whisper, “That is, if you still want to see your friend.”

 

Sanji’s heart gives a vigorous throb before it settles down, “Is he alright?” His voice is a rasp because Zoro’s fingers are still pressing on his neck. “Can I see him?”

 

“Yes and no,” Zoro smiles playfully now, and then he falls silent all of a sudden.

 

Sanji feels the pressure on his neck building more, suffocating. He can feel his veins protesting and popping across his temples as his face grows redder in the shade. “L-let me…” but the hands on his windpipe press impossibly too much, and Sanji knows that if it entails strenuous effort to breathe, then he only has seconds before he blacks out. He lifts his leg to knee the other in the crotch, but Zoro’s angle isn’t quite that off his waist, so he ends up flailing his leg in the air to no avail. Beyond his shallow breathing, he can hear Zoro’s deep and prolonged pants, and much to his dismay, a hard-on is slowly growing in size over his hip and poking him. He glares through slanted eyes, which are slowly being blurred, finding a trace of malevolence in Zoro’s that want nothing in the world but to hurt him and enjoy every bit of it.

 

Finally, Zoro’s hands release him and Sanji inches in on himself, coughing and inhaling all at once. His brain finally getting some much-needed oxygen and his tendons barely relaxing.

 

“Now. Food.” Zoro chirps, he pulls away and sits beside Sanji who sits up with a hardly contained wince. Those cold fingers that have been choking breath out of him will certainly bruise, and it might be hard to swallow for the next couple of days too. Zoro brings the trolley nearer so he’d pick the dishes without having to go through the trouble of stretching to change between meals. “Let’s go with something easy to stomach,” he says, picking out a bowl of stew, “Your seizure was kinda rough, and you took quite the bashing to your head.”

 

“I wonder whose fault is that.” Sanji presses his lips together to feign a smile, it’s all sarcasm-heavy.

 

It earns him a furious glare, but then Zoro drags on, intentionally ignoring the remark. “That’s why I pumped you heavy on anticonvulsants.” He fills up a spoon from the delicious smelling stew and aims it to Sanji’s mouth. The latter cocks a brow, getting fed by a killer, whose hands must be covered in blood from all the people he’s ended and found pleasure in, is not particularly at the forefront of Sanji’s to-do list. However, after what he’s just heard about his friend being fine, Sanji fights past this enormous temptation to snap the spoon from Zoro and stab it into his eyes, and then he parts his lips. Zoro feeds him down to half a bowl when Sanji finally pulls away, full.

 

“I’m leaving the table here,” Zoro informs, placing the bowl back into the said trolley. “And you’d better clean that mess before I come back.” Saying so, he heaves as he pushes up to his feet, his hard-on has long since calmed down, and Sanji is grateful for that.

 

Zoro waltz out of the room leisurely.

 

Sanji scrutinizes the door, and the click of the lock doesn’t escape him too. He looks at this from all sides: Zoro’s mood swings that switch when it’s convenient for him, how the volatile attitude is righteously affecting Sanji and the bruises on his neck stand as a discernible proof. He knows he can’t be part of Zoro’s house play, playing ‘pet’ for a murderer isn’t even that fun. It’s not supposed to be enjoyable and, damn it, Sanji gets that, but he’s doomed if he doesn’t play along. He’s banking on this to get him a friends’ reunion with Luffy and Nami, hopefully soon too because this entire play is ridiculous. He glances over at the mess of grilled fish and roasted meat he made on the floor, and the stench of ailing bile finally gets to him, so he rises to his feet, uses a towel he saw hanging onto a well-installed rack inside the bathroom. He dips it good in water and makes to clear the floor with it.

 

 

An undetermined time goes by with him lying on the headboard of the bed and staring blankly at the door.

 

He doesn’t know what day it is, what time it is. He’s certainly noticed the temperature drop and is hoping October is finally bringing some rain and cold.

 

It’d be all right if Luffy was receiving the same treatment. Well, minus the throttling and the threatening, getting delicious food, and having his own bathroom would be more than enough, thank you. They could figure out the rest later. What matters now is to stay in shape, especially in Sanji’s case. Although Zoro said he gave him plenty of anticonvulsants, it still doesn’t stop the crushing possibilities that it might take a turn to the worst and he falls to the ground, seizing. The last one must have been pretty bad, he guesses, the egg-sized bump in the back of his head is like a traffic neon sign providing a vivid depiction of what must have gone down. It’s all the more reason he makes sure this pans out in their favor. He knows it’s not going to be easy, especially if he doesn’t know what became of Nami and his friend. Maybe it was selfish of him to ask about his friend and leave out Nami, but it’s not like Zoro –if that’s really his name, was handing detailed reports back in. The sick man barely gave him anything concrete. It’d be lies for all Sanji knows, and maybe… everyone else is dead.

 

Being realistic hurts.

 

But the circumstances contrast with the speculations his dead friends used to make and as such, had no basis in reality. But Sanji knows more now, he isn’t being kept in the dark and oblivion about who the enemy and ally are. He knows the murders, and he knows his friends, all they need now is a plan.

 

 

He wakes up startled when delicate fingers glide down his neck. The bed sheets rustle harshly as Sanji withdrawals from Zoro's touch. “What’ you doing?” He says over an audible gulp because those bruises ache, his voice is warring with indignation.

 

Zoro lifts placating hands but keeps on sitting on the bed with his legs crossed on one another. “You’re a bit ripe,” he says, “go take a shower.”

 

Something is reeling within Sanji, willing him to keep away from those caring words and gentle fingers, to see past them at the malicious smirk and the bemused eyes. Sanji flings the cover aside and gets out of bed. He can feel Zoro's eyes on his body, gluttonizing him with an enormous appetite. It’s unnerving, and Sanji finds himself bolting to the bathroom as fast as his legs can carry him.

 

“Don’t.” The order is coming, soft-spoken but intimidating. “Don’t close the door.”

 

“What.” Sanji swivels around to face the other, “I’m not entitled to my privacy now?”

 

The icy glare Zoro shoots him is enough to silence Sanji, and he knows he better save that dash of condescension to himself. He retreats immediately and skids into the bathroom without a second complaint. As the water flushes down on his naked body, steamy and warm, Sanji brings his hand to his neck, barely ghosting over the skin and a powerful memory of Zoro's cold fingers touching him replays without his consent. Rage almost blinds him on the spot. He wouldn’t know what to do if Zoro decided this amount of touching wasn’t enough, if he suddenly woke up the next day wanting to do more than touch? It’s not that far-fetched possibility and Sanji is probably having the crisis of his life because his friends' survival and his depend on this but he doesn’t know if he’d be able to sit tight if Zoro took it up a few notches and decided raping his brains out was certifiable. When he gets out thoroughly soaked, he finds Zoro still sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. He cocks his head with a pair of baffled eyes announcing his confusion. “Provided that I left a towel in there for you, why the heck are you dripping wet?”

 

“Oh, that.” Sanji clicks his tongue, “Used it to clean up the floor.”

 

Zoro hums, now uncrossing his legs as he stands up very slowly. “Well, that’s some slapdash attitude from a smartass like you.” Saying so, he draws nearer to Sanji whose frames tense evidently hard. “You know,” Zoro starts once he halts a breath away from Sanji, the latter feels the other’s body heat oozing abundantly and putting into consideration his damp skin and the awful drop in temperature. Sanji almost slops into the radiant warmth. Zoro brings up a hand and the other eyes it with visible trepidation, but only the fingernails tap at the skin of his upper arm, sliding up and down ever so gently. “You seem to lack discipline.”

 

“And you seem to lack a heart.” Sanji counters, a mix of sarcasm and admonishment tolling his tone.

 

“It’s not that I lack a heart per se,” Zoro shrugs offhandedly. “I’m just impervious to any sob story I’m told while I cut into the flesh.”

 

Sanji fists his hands, the logical side of him tells him it’d all end for the worst if he hooks that stunning fist to Zoro’s nose, but darn every other fiber in him is rooting for him to do it. “Huh,” he scoffs. “I gotta hand it to you, though, your perseverance is quite acute.”

 

“Well, there you have it–” Zoro glides those fingers to the area under Sanji' left ear, kneading sensually. The movement deliberately stalled. Although he’d like to secrete this from every living soul, Sanji can at least admit to himself that little flutter of his eyes when he fleetingly drowned in the sensation “–Source of my dedication.” Zoro finishes lightly; it’s too brash and unassertive to add any genuineness to his statement.

 

“What’ you want from me?” Sanji suddenly blares, his brows meeting in a frown. “Why are you keeping me here?”

 

Zoro clicks his lips as though he’s been asked this countless times already that it’s starting to work on some of his nerves that would rather decapitate than give a legitimate answer. The fingers rubbing along Sanji’ neckline have paused and the latter fears the onset of a full-blown verbal lambasting, or worse, a machete to his neck. But Zoro soon recovers from whatever anger that’s managed to slip in, and he gives another one of his slight smiles. His fingers cupping Sanji’s shoulder now to propel him. “Get on your knees.”

 

“The fuck I am.” Sanji slaps the hand on his shoulder away and steps back, his eyes defiant.

 

Zoro’s expression turns grim, and he looks unsympathetically bored stiff with life, his eyes droopy and he rolls them again. “We can compromise.” He starts, “You either go on your knees, or I make you.”

 

Sanji’s tongue snakes to wet his parched lips. He has to flee away. He has to escape from this human pile of psychosis and insanity now that his dignity is still intact. The door to the room suddenly opens again and the machete guy bursts in wearing a bloody butcher’s apron. “Zoro” He says, his eyes searching Sanji’s body and his defensive posture. Zoro turns his head to the man, and Sanji latches at the opportunity. He dashes to the door, but Zoro is quicker as he takes an iron grip on Sanji’s elbow and pulls him back to him, the latter squirms, doing his hardest to rip off of the other’s ridiculously strong grip. He hears Zoro curse beneath his breath before something stings under his earlobe. Sanji snaps his eyes open and looks at the syringe Zoro’s just injected him with as he tosses it aside. He immediately lets go of Sanji who is groaning as a burning sensation spreads from the needle mark, he cups it and sashays away from Zoro again, his eyes roam about the room as he pants, wincing in between.

 

Zoro adjusts his dress shirt and the sleeves, his movements are firm and brisk. “Do I always have to do everything myself?” at this, he looks at the man standing by the door. “Get lost, nosy old so-and-so. And don’t think it’s over, I’m dealing with you after this.”

 

The man bows his head and quickly leaves, closing the door after him.

 

“Now,” Zoro lets out a little sigh that the hindrance is gone. “I’d like you to get on the bed.”

 

Sanji is still clutching at his neck and moaning, the excruciating pain is gradually becoming unbearable as it spreads to his head. “What the hell did you inject me with?”

 

“What did I tell you about counter-questions?” He reminds, a slight degree of indignation creeping in his tone. He walks up to the other who is too absorbed in his pain to flinch away from him. He grips a fistful of Sanji’s brown strands, yanking his head back so their eyes can meet. “You see, I lied when I said I was a med student.” He smiles cheekily, “I’m a neurologist, a Harvard graduate too, E.” He snorts derisively, “I have to say, you’re quite the lucky bastard because I might be able to help you with your epilepsy.”

 

At this, Sanji shoots him a fiery glare. And instead of crunching under its heat, Zoro rejoices outwardly.

 

“Come on now,” he trills hintingly, “you’re gonna make me hard if you keep looking at me like that.”

 

Sanji would have spat in the other’s face if it wasn’t for the involuntary cry of pain that escapes his mouth, resonant and miserable. Zoro parts his lips and scowls, “ _Fuck_ ” he breathes out, “Do it more.”

 

Sanji staggers and forges through the wavy shapes within his eyeshot. He holds on with a hand to the frame of the bed before he dives to the floor nose first. His other hand is clutching at his hair, trying to will the pain to ease off. He can feel his entire body being assaulted with painful tremors and he feels absolutely helpless not knowing how to stop it. Just what did Zoro inject him with? He looks towards said man with his own bleary eyes and almost yelps at the hungry pupils watching him with such keen fixation. Another tremor vibrates across his body and Sanji mewls with pain. But his eyes never leave Zoro’s as the latter palms his crotch faintly, the enigmatic expression veiling his face drives Sanji over the edge.

 

“I’d get on the bed if I were you,” Zoro suddenly offers. “Here’s a pretty brief closure. It’s a handmade magical potion, so to speak.” He starts, “It’s a liquefied substance with a tiny chemical formula that causes friction within your neurons. It won’t kill you, but it’s an equivalent to a pain inducer, so you’re gonna feel pretty crappy for the next twenty minutes or so.” He simpers, looking pleased with his handiwork.

 

Sanji tries to quickly fathom the idea of getting injected with a chemical substance that would sure as hell give him cancer in the long run, but then the question remains, “Why?”

 

Zoro scoffs as if he never expected this kind of reaction, “Now that’s a stupid question to ask, Sanji.” He shakes his head, disbelieving of the reaction. He eventually crouches beside his captive, their eyes on each other’s, “you see, cutting into the flesh used to bring me so much pleasure, but I’ve grown out of it.” He shrugs, “it bores me.” Now a smirk lithers his lips, “and then I saw you seize…” he snorts, a little admiringly if Sanji cared to analyze, but then he decides against finishing his sentence and only makes do with touching Sanji’ sweaty forehead, “Just let it happen.” He says in an undertone, “Cry out more for me and make me cum.”

 

Sanji isn’t fragile as to let Zoro have his way with him so he swipes the other’s hand, and coils up, holding on to the bed frame until the color leaves his knuckles. Zoro doesn’t let him though as he hoists him up and pushes him to the bed. They both bounce with the impact.

 

Sanji turns to lie on his right, clutching at both sides of his head as he moans. Zoro only watches. A few minutes go by with Sanji withering more and more and then something changes, the degree of pain maybe. Sanji is shouting his lungs out as his neurons get marred within him. He cries out and thrashes, still clutching at his head with both hands as tears stream down his eyes. “M-make it…” he lets out another anguished cry, “Make it stop!”

 

“Yea… ” Zoro moans but it’s influenced by irrepressible pleasure. “It feels good.”

 

“Stop…” Sanji rasps out as the ability to communicate leaves him. His insides must be crumpling under the onslaught because the pain is no longer bearable. He only stares blankly and moans to protest against the pain. He feels Zoro kneel beside him, more rustling, a zipper undoes, and Zoro is soon panting. Sanji hears a wet sound of sticky meats flapping against one another. It only takes him that much to put two and two together and finally come out with the horrifying realization that Zoro is masturbating. Another painful wave hits him, and he arches his back, moaning under the assault. Above his cloud of pain and hurt, he hears Zoro’s panting picking up as well as does the sticky sound of him rubbing his cock off. Sanji never thought he’d be thankful for feeling pain, but now that he can’t see Zoro jerking off, he does feel grateful, or else the image would have scarred his eyes for years to come. He eventually prays his pain could stop or he’d end up with some mental disability. Someone up there actually hears his prayers and then he is slowly drowning in darkness.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Sanji feels the burn of the IV on the nook of his arm before he hears the intermittent beeps. Though, he hears something else. Someone is talking, and that deep voice can’t be mistaken. It’s what’s become Sanji’s nightmare as of late: Zoro. But he is also talking to someone else, a woman by the sound of it. Sanji forges between the haziness just to open his heavy lids, but all he manages is a groan. The voices fall silent, and he groans more but other than that, he doesn’t do anything.

 

The next time, he wakes up to someone shaking him. He hears the same voice of the woman rousing him from his comfortable yet dreamless sleep. He forces himself to open those damn eyes, and among the foggy dots, he sees a woman peering down worriedly at him.

“If…he was… your friend…”

Her voice is muffled, but Sanji knows it’s his ears that are plugged with his own sleepiness and drowsiness. And what’s that about his friend? As the realization sinks in, his eyes shoot open and he hears the bits after she starts getting frenzy, looking at him and switching to look at the door behind her.

“Oh, Zoro took him to the room at the end of this hallway.”

Sanji feels the onset of a migraine, but he ignores it in favor of hearing what this wide-eyed lady has to say.

“He keeps him there.” She says, “You have to save him and leave this place!”

“Who are you?” Is what pops into Sanji’s head, but it’s a little slurred. He hopes she got the meaning at least. “Why are you helping?”

“I’m Zoro’s personal assistant.” She whispers urgently, “Please.” She looks at the door and then back at Sanji again. “You need to get away. He’s getting out of control!”

Sanji’s blue eyes finally focus, and his heart starts beating faster.

“He’s leaving for a meeting this afternoon,” she informs him hastily. “You’d better leave then!”

The door to the room suddenly flies open and the nightmarish man saunters in with his hands in his pockets, giving absolutely no care to the world. That arrogant smile is doing strange things to Sanji’s anger. He pauses by the bed and faces Sanji.

“What’ you still doing here?” He addresses the woman but his eyes never leave Sanji’s.

The woman fidgets and fumbles with the IV pole, “Oh” she stutters, “I was just checking on his vitals. After the head scan, I’m quite worried that–”

“Get out.” He cuts her off with the crude order.

She nods, and her eyes fall on Sanji’s. He follows her movement as she hums her understanding and scurries out of the room, her boots tapping on the plank. And then it’s just him and Zoro in the room again and the deafening silence.

“So you finally came to,” Zoro remarks, relaxingly.

“Not thanks to you.” Sanji counters.

As he focuses on Zoro’s hands so that if he brings up a syringe suddenly he would see it, Sanji notices another thing. The white sleeved shirt he is currently wearing and the black sweatpants.

Apparently, Zoro picks up on those thoughtful eyes that are currently scanning his body.

“They’re clothes,” He scorns. “I’m sure they don’t bite.”

Sanji looks away from his clothes, “I’m sure they don’t.” His words are insidious despite the triviality of the expression.

Zoro cocks a brow and soon takes his hands out of his pockets, “There have been massive temperature drops lately, as you may have noticed.” He starts, skulking soundlessly closer to the bed. “And I can’t exactly allow a heater into the room, so I thought to myself what the best alternative is.” Saying so, he slowly sits down on the bed and crosses his legs. “Clothes.” He beams.

Sanji scoffs and unconsciously skids to the headboard, away from those predatory eyes that seem to desperately want to hide under the beam and the nonchalant behavior. “And here I thought you finally had a personality transplant,” he starts. “Guess this is just a new level of your assholery.”

Zoro’s beam disappears.

Sanji winces inwardly, and for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off Zoro. For a moment he thinks maybe this is what they call 'paralyzing fear.'

“Keep the levity coming,” He tilts his head, “it might cost you a little something though.” And when Sanji only twitches his brows at him, Zoro licks his upper lip and leans into Sanji’s space; he places a couple of fingers over his captive’s jawline. “Say a hand maybe, your tongue. Maybe I’ll chop off both your arms.”

Sanji eyes the cold smirk with a pair of terrified eyes and the heartbeats in his ears are so loud he almost hears nothing. He wants to slap the hand on his face away. He wants to kick Zoro off and make a run for it but his entire body is twitching with blatant fear.

“Oh I know,” Zoro’s face suddenly lightens up with a creepy smile. “How about another dose of that pain inducer?”

Anything but that, Sanji shakes his head frantically and darn he knows he has just played right into his captor's hands, given him the leverage he needs to break him if he so chooses. He wants to call for a do-over, but he knows nothing will deter Zoro from his vigilance.

“Though another dose of that might liquefy your brain, but you get the point.” Zoro shrugs.

“Yeah I do, I mean your face is kinda telling me that loud and clear.” Sanji mutters, grouchily.

Zoro’s eyes widen, “You obviously don’t,” he says, almost disbelievingly. “You really have the attention span of a happy dog.”

Sanji bears with the brunt of the insult and remains silent.

“I’d like to try something different today,” Zoro sighs and takes it to the topic Sanji is so adamantly trying to avoid. “But I need you fit as a fiddle for this, so go on, take a shower first.”

“What’s that you sick fuck?” Sanji’ mouth opens again, ready to utter another bout of colorful curses when Zoro’s hand comes up out of thin air and clutches his hair. Sanji winces audibly this time around as he gets pulled towards the man before him.

“Now that’s a potty mouth you have!” Zoro sing-songs, gripping tightly on the smooth strands and enjoying the little-stifled winces Sanji makes under his assault. “What? You were raised in a barn or something?”

Sanji’s eyes finally fall on Zoro’s, and the amusement in them doesn’t go unnoticed. Sanji then grits his teeth and glowers at the other. “You wanted me to take a shower, didn’t you?” He reminds, his hands coming up to the one clutching his hair despite the change in altitude. “Then let go.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything for quite the pause. “Now,” he scoffs. “You act as though I’m under your command. Are you just dumb or are you trying my patience for real?” He gives Sanji’s head a hefty shove. “Because last time I checked, I was the one who brought you here, so I am the one who has authority over you.”

Give Sanji one reason why he shouldn’t spit in this fucker’s face.

“You’re gonna have to play by my rules if you ever want to get outta here.” He says, now hauling Sanji’s head to the back so their noses can touch. “But for now, you’re mine.” His smirk deepens evilly. “You’re my little bitch in every sense of the word.”

Their eyes roam in each other’s, defiantly from Sanji’s part, but maliciously from Zoro’s.

Sanji caves in than hollering ‘in your dreams’, he knows that at this point, it’s an authority thing. Zoro seems like the type who doesn’t like to be told what to do or how. He likes to play in his own rules and gladdens when his rivals follow on his pace. Sanji doesn’t cave in because he’s scared… well he is that too, but he doesn’t retaliate because, in spite of everything, Zoro still has leverage. With one wrong word, Sanji can doom his childhood friend and Nami –if she’s still alive.

He starts to feel the pressure on his hair lessen, and he can finally move more freely. Without a complaint, Sanji sits up. Annoyed with the constant perfusion, he rips out the IV needle from the perforated hole on the nook of his arm that’s starting to bleed now gradually. He unclips the pulse oximeter from his thumb next and finally swings his legs out of bed. When he walks into the bathroom, he remains sentient about Zoro big dislike for closed doors, especially the bathroom, so he leaves it ajar. After he takes his new clothes off and hangs them on the towel rack, he stands under the shower head, turns on the faucet, and waits for the hot water to regenerate.

The bathroom is soon steaming with misty steam, and the humidity comes in the spurts of spray droplets on the walls. Sanji kneads his scalp and enjoys the impact of water on his porcelain skin. Suddenly, novel hands rest on his hips, and Sanji makes a clipped noise of horror as his body freezes. Zoro is standing right behind him, his breath coming onto Sanji’s nape, hot and shuddering.

“What…” The words are bewitched to remain unspoken, and Sanji feels the powerlessness hitting him on blast.

Zoro’s mouth touches Sanji’s left ear, and the hands on the hips start to glide down towards Sanji’s groin. “Such a lush body.” He comments into Sanji’s ear. “I saw you lying there on bed,” he purrs. “You make me want to do things to you…” His hands ghost over Sanji’s cock. “Inflict unimaginable pain on your delicate skin, carve it with a scalpel, and enjoy hearing you scream.”

Sanji shrivels up under the haunting words. He knows no man should hear this and feel glee, but his treacherous body is starting to react, and his cock is embarrassingly twitching in response to the boner poking his ass. Zoro then licks a spot behind Sanji’s ear and just as suddenly, he fists his cock and the latter lets out a startled yelp.

“You made me weird!” Zoro bellows, his hand jerking off the captured cock relentlessly.

Sanji braces two arms onto the wall before his knees fail him too. His mouth is already letting out muffled moans, and his cock is enjoying the rough treatment. One complaint and he’d sentence everyone to death. But being sexually assaulted like this is not exactly a stroll in the park either. This could turn out pretty bad for Sanji, and he’s old enough to know the consequences.

He feels one of Zoro’s hands –the one that’s not occupied with shaming him, starts to pull Sanji so he can lean back onto his shoulder. Sanji isn’t practically lucid to fight him right now especially with his orgasm looming in, so he lets Zoro do as he pleases. He lets him manhandle him to lean back on him, his head on the psycho’s broad shoulder. He feels Zoro’s breath coming ragged onto his ear, and just like that, the last string that connects him to sanity gets clipped, and Sanji is shooting his cum to the wall with a prolonged whimper.

 

 

 

Sanji startles awake. He sits up abruptly and relaxes a little when he finds no one in the room but him. He’s in the bed, already dressed. Zoro must have help put the clothes back on him. It’s not like it makes Sanji the least bit happy. The psycho went ahead and touched him, who knows what else he did while Sanji was unconscious. And the fact that Sanji didn’t feel the sick man approaching him from behind in the bathroom stands proof that his reflexes are getting rusty.

Just then, that mysterious woman’s words echo in his mind and Sanji jumps up to his feet. He knows Zoro must have left the key attached to the keyhole so he can’t use the IV needle to pick the lock, so he aims for the bathroom and tears off some toilet paper. He then makes for the locked door and crouches beside it. He folds the papers very neatly, and slides them under the door beneath the key’s level. Using the IV needle, he pokes the key and, although he fails in the first two-three attempts, the key eventually falls on the papers without a clang. He slowly pulls the papers towards him, careful not to make the key tip over. At last, he holds the key in his hand and quickly uses it to unlock the door, peering out stealthily, and, luckily, there’s no one outside. It’s a long hallway but he can’t help but think things are looking up for him.

The woman said that Luffy is inside some room at the end of the hallway, right? Sanji will free him and then the two will get out of here and tell the police everything, and hopefully they’ll rescue their friend Nami. He swivels in all directions, his ears alert for any sound and his eyes surreptitiously looking around him for any movement. The tiled hallway finally comes to an end, and Sanji finds a wooden door with a key sticking out. He guesses Zoro’s been doing the same trick here too.

“Where’ you think you’re going?”

Sanji spins around almost instantaneously, finding Zoro standing right behind him, creeping up on him like an undesirable darkness. Sanji backs away until his back hits the door. There’s an amused look on Zoro’s face, and Sanji looks at it with horror. Just then, someone else walks into the hallway from a sliding door behind him and she moves to stand beside Zoro. Her lab coat and her high heels tell Sanji she’s involved in “medical something.” Sanji eyes them both as they eye him back, but their gaze is more searching. And that’s when Sanji remembers that the woman is the same one who told him where his friend was.

“Huh!” She chuckles behind her elegant fingers. “He really came to this room.”

“Hancock,” Zoro says over his shoulder, but his eyes don’t steer away from Sanji’s, “you put him up to this?”

“I thought you looked pretty bored and wanted to give you a little something to play with. I didn’t think he was this gullible.” She laughs now. “And he believed every word I said. That’s a foolish thing to do considering I’m a stranger who introduced herself as Zoro’s ‘assistant.’”

Sanji’s heart bleeds.

Her laugh crescendos to a small chuckle, but it’s still sarcastic and Sanji hates it.

Without his consent, one of Sanji’s hands balls into a fist and pierces the air, almost hitting Zoro’s cheek. But the latter ducks just in time to dodge the hit. His feet stretch forward to smash with Sanji’s ankles, knocking him off balance. Sanji lands on his side, letting out a winded sound, and quickly rotates his body to do a backflip that Zoro admires. He brings his hands up and instigates a ‘come and get me’ gesture, which infuriates Sanji. He trudges on again in a full attack. Zoro continues to dodge the blows, ending with a side smack to Sanji’s neck. The latter totters to the ground, but Zoro forces him to his feet.

“Finally,” he breathes out, amusement flashing across his features. “A challenge!”

Sanji regains his composure and bunts the taller man’s nose with his head. It works, and Zoro eases his grip on his captive. He bends over as blood drips from his nose and he suddenly vibrates with a menacing laugh that has Sanji’s frame shaking. He looks up and doesn’t even bother wiping the blood away. “I won’t go easy on you,” he warns and gives Sanji no time to block before his fist connects with his stomach followed up by another blow to his cheek. Sanji is wondering where such speed came from when a knee connects to his lowered chest, knocking the breath out of him.

Sanji groans and clutches at his chest, coughing a little. Novel fingers sneak between the smooth strands of his hair, and then they clutch, yanking his head backward so their eyes could meet.

Sanji is overcome by anger and hatred; he knows if his friend is really inside this room then the only thing standing between him and saving Luffy is this psychopathic killer. So, he glares at him. Zoro doesn’t look bothered by the look at all.

“The way you look at me…” he starts, tilting his head to submerge himself in the look. “Your eyes so full of hate and scorn –it’s perfect.” His eyes light up with something definitely evil as he smirks impishly. “You’re turning me on.” At this, he palms his growing cock over the fabric while the other hand yanks harder on Sanji’s hair.

“You sick bastard!” Sanji grits out, the metallic taste inside his mouth is offering a whole range of possibilities that he doesn’t want to face right now. A bloody psycho getting aroused by his pain is enough of a problem. “I’ll kill you myself when I get outta here.”

Zoro’s smirk widens. Sanji admits to himself that he doesn’t appreciate that sort of smirk.

“So gallant.” The woman–Hancock if Sanji still remembers–gushes.

Zoro licks his upper lip in a very sensual way. “See why I like my new toy?”

Sanji seizes the other’s distraction, and he forges on, butting his captor’s cheek head-on. Zoro falls backward, slamming shoulder-first on the wall behind. Hancock panics for a second, and she steps out of Sanji’s way. The latter glares at her, silently threatening her and apparently, she heeds his threat as she locks herself against the wall. The moment Sanji turns the key of this room, his head gets caught in something and then it slams against the wooden surface. He slides down with a whine.

“Never do things in halves.” Zoro stands atop him, wiping his bloodied nose on his sleeve.

Sanji then feels himself getting forced to his feet again by the back of his collar, but with the metallic tang over his tongue and the all over strange sensation, he knows soon he won’t be coherent enough to even fight. He probably has only a couple of hours.

“I’ll leave you to your fun.” Hancock waves a lackadaisical hand before heading back the way she came. “Don’t break him too soon.”

Zoro suddenly pulls Sanji as they trudge to the latter’s ‘room’. Zoro then eyes the papers beside the door and keeps his comment to himself because Sanji is struggling and wrestling about. He kicks the door shut and tosses Sanji onto the bed. The latter retreats to the headboard as Zoro tugs at his leg. Sanji kicks the other’s hand off but Zoro isn’t having any of it as he slaps Sanji across the cheek and, much to his dismay, that’s the only attack that makes his whole body freeze.

Zoro then stills and looks Sanji in the eyes. “The more you struggle, the hornier I get.” He confesses, leering like the psycho he is.

“Shut up, shut your trap!” Sanji snarls, hiding his ears with two shaky hands.

Zoro’s grip on Sanji’s ankles tightens, pulling him firmly and flipping him before the captive could get a chance to elbow him in the face. Sanji’s breathing grows frantic, and he probes at the rumpled bed sheets. His eyes open impossibly wide. “Let go!” He swipes at his back because Zoro has just placed his body weight on him so he wouldn’t turn. “Get off me, you sick fuck!”

“What did I say about that potty mouth of yours, huh?” Zoro practically chirps, undoing his belt.

Sanji hears the zipper, and he almost lets fear seize him in its clutch. Zoro can’t be thinking of… “I’ll kill you!” He wiggles as the veins pop out along his neckline. “I’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!”

Zoro then captures his arms, and although Sanji pulls against him, Zoro manages to tie them down with his belt.

“Untie me!” Sanji bellows, angry and scared.

“Now, why would I do that?” Zoro sounds entertained, and then hot fingers are sliding onto Sanji’s scalp, kneading with such care. Zoro leans into Sanji’s ear. “Do you know why I tied your hands?” He asks in a cold whisper.

“To rape me,” Sanji states in a matter-of-factly. “As expected of a psychopathic killer like you.”

“Incorrect.” Zoro hums, his voice vibrates over Sanji’s back. “I’m going to _fuck_ your brains out.”

Sanji is fleetingly under the effect of the shudder that runs down his spine without a break, but then the words sink in, and he jerks his hands to try to undo the belt. “Don’t you fucking dare, I’ll slit your throat you sick bastard!”

His sweatpants get pulled down robustly, and then he’s being lifted from his middle so that his ass is off the mattress. Sanji’s heart is skyrocketing, and he knows this isn’t going to be a fun trip. Rape isn’t supposed to be passionate, so if he can’t break free, he has to brace himself for it.

“Provided that your cherry’s never been popped, I was planning to be–” he cuts himself off with a low chuckle. “Who am I kidding, I was never gonna be nice.” Saying so, he parts Sanji’s buttocks and Sanji’s face pales, color draining from his face.

Sanji bucks back, using his strength to fight the other off. Only, Zoro presses against him like a brick wall and pins him down. He spits on his other hand before he strokes his cock. But once he lines it along Sanji’s anus, the latter panics and starts thrashing, not wanting to admit defeat although all chances seem to be against him.

So he’s going to be raped by this psychopath? He’s never had anal before. He never really had any interest in physical contact with others. As his epilepsy became more frequent, he had to eventually forget about the idea.

Now look at him, pinned down to the bed and about to get raped by a man who relishes any signs of pain. A man who’s enjoyed watching Sanji withering in pain more than once–that pain inducer, Sanji won’t forget its effect as long as he lives.

A hand presses on the side of his face and immobilizes him as Zoro pushes in, sliding in all the while, groaning under the feeling of tight heat twitching around his cock.

Sanji wails in agony as bolts of pain spread out from the cock tearing his flesh open. And instead of slowing down at Sanji’s apparent discomfort, Zoro gets immersed in the hotness and the tightness welcoming him as he keeps thrusting. At first, the unprepared hole gives him trouble, and Zoro finds difficulty, but it’s nothing more force won’t solve.

Sanji gives a garbled shout and the sensation of something liquid seeping down his thighs makes his heart sink.

Zoro is enjoying the sound of his meaty balls slapping against Sanji’s ass, but he savors his pained shouts even more.

Sanji’s eyes well up from the pain. He bites his bottom lip and only focuses on breathing to distract from the pain as Zoro slams into him hard and fast. It’s brutal, and if it wasn’t for the blood that’s replacing lube, that thing could have done some serious damage by now.

Zoro feels bored with Sanji only breathing, so he pounds him. Sanji’s head lifts off the sheets and an indignant and hurt scream leaves his lunges.

“That’s more like it,” Zoro rejoices, gripping Sanji’s hair and yanking the head. “Next time won’t be a ‘first’ so make sure to entertain me.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Sanji grits, his tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m fucking _you_.” Zoro sneers, and he grinds against the other, feeling his climax closing in. Sanji keens at the contact that overworks his insides, still trying to undo the ties because the pain is making his head light and dizzy.

 

The nightmare is finally over, and Zoro pulls out after shooting his load inside Sanji’s hole that’s twitching now as blood and sperm spill out of the puffy entrance like lava. Sanji falls onto the sheets without a sound, finally finding relief from pain. Zoro then yanks the other’s head up again by the hair only to assault his neck, sucking the skin so hard until a bruise blooms.

“You’re mine.”

Sanji registers the words with a fogged memory; every fiber in his body is throbbing. Zoro then undoes the belt and leaves the bed. Sanji feels the bed bounce just lightly, and then the door creaks open and closes.

The fluorescent bulbs flicker above him, and Sanji’s fingers twitch. There’s pain in his backside and will probably stay there for more days. Sanji’s entire body is lax and unmoving, even the hard suck on his neck didn’t make him stir.

He’s heard of the rape of males before but never thought he’d be a victim of sexual violence. This whole thing sucks. Things weren’t supposed to be like this; they were supposed to be in the capital, having a blast at the concert. Usopp wasn’t supposed to get blown up, and Frank wasn’t supposed to die like that. And instead of trying to save his childhood friend, he’s spreading his legs for a man who doesn’t have any humanity left in him.

Sanji nuzzles against the sheets but merely to wipe his tears since his hands are too tired to move.

What if Luffy’s also being treated violently like this, getting raped and traumatized. Sanji sobs. He’s failed his friends. He’s failed himself.

The only good thing that came out of his dry ass getting fucked royally is that he now has only seconds before he passes out; thus he won’t have to seize.

 

 

The constant buzzing of the overhead fluorescent tubes pulls Sanji out of sweet oblivion. His eyes flutter open, and he realizes nothing has changed from his position from… he doesn’t even know what day it is, if it is night or morning.

 

He’s still lying on his chest, with one hand resting beside his face and the other beside his hip. And as he tries to move, excruciating pain shoots from his backside, he hisses sharply and stills. He knows he’d be stalling this painless state if he doesn’t move, but he feels he has legitimately had enough of pain as it is. He tries to measure it because he can feel substances he doesn’t want to name have dried on his skin and he would like to get his body rid of it. One tiny rotation of his ass and something liquid starts spilling down his inner thighs. The rage would have sent him insane if it wasn’t for his hope flickering for his friends, but how dare Zoro. That psycho bastard, how dare he do this?

Sanji’s never felt this humiliated before.

And as he tries to sit up, snaking so he wouldn’t irritate his anus any more than it’s already is. More piercing pain reminds him of the crime that’s taken place inside these ominous walls. His forehead falls onto the bed sheets, and he pants, hissing and gasping as the metallic-smelling liquid keeps on seeping out of his hole. “He tore me; he actually tore me.” It’s a statement spoken in a harrowed tone. “The bastard. I’ll kill him…” He clenches his fists on the sheets. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

The trek from his bed to the bathroom has worn Sanji out. He lands shoulder-first on the door frame and things like feelings of disgust and being a revolting defeatist start to engulf him and remind him of his priorities. Which he’s done nothing to compartmentalize–how he’s going to kill Zoro and how he’s going to save his friend… he has done nothing but get humiliated–raped by a man at his age! His head feels faint at the harsh memory and bile spirals on the tip of his stomach. He fights past the feeling because his bottom half is sore and his inner thighs feel dry.

His entire body hurts.

He doesn’t even bother drying his hair as he wobbles back to the bed and falls on it with a deep moan. Sparks of pain shoot through his body, and he folds in on himself, hating the sensation that’s making him nauseous. Although he thoroughly washed his body, every part of it still feels unclean. The worst part is that the pesky bleeding hasn’t stopped. It’s not heavy, but it’s still there as a reminder.

Several bruises are covering his body, and he guesses most of them are from him taking on his opponent in a one-sided fight, where Zoro defeated him so easily that it’s laughable. The door to the room suddenly opens. Sanji tries to sit up but every fiber in him becomes taut by bolts of throbbing pain. The pungent perfume reaches Sanji before its owner does. Sanji’s stomach starts to flip-flop, and his eyes starts to widen, horrified.

The Horsebit loafers click-clack, approaching the bed and then finally stopping.

Sanji looks up at the silhouette of the man, his own eyes trembling. And as the other lowers his head, crouching beside the bed, that brittle smirk on his face makes Sanji’s entire body freeze.

“Turn over.”

Sanji forces his eyes shut since he doesn’t want to see the other’s face, it’d only ignite the fighting spirit in him, but he’s too weak right now for that. Besides, he was taken down so easily the previous time. Sanji isn’t sure this time would be any different.

“I can’t examine you otherwise.”

Sanji’s shoulders flinch noticeably hard, but his eyes remain closed. “Don’t touch me.”

“There’s probably some rectal bleeding,” Zoro says. “You really don’t want it to get infected.”

“Who caused it in the first place?”

Zoro tips his head forward. “Point taken.” He nods. “Also, if you backtalk to me again, I promise there’s going to be more than just an anal fissure.”

Sanji’s eyes open. They tremble when the first thing they see is Zoro’s dark eyes so close to his. He gulps and looks away, ignoring those eyes and what possible darkness they hide. He lifts up very slowly, still hissing every time he aggravates the wounds down below.

“It’s alright, don’t lift up.” Zoro adjusts his weight on his haunches. “Lie down on your stomach.”

Sanji stills for a pause before he lies down again on his side, and slowly turns over, burying his face into the pillow. He hears shuffling–probably an indication that Zoro has changed his posture–and then the edge of the bed tips with the newly added weight. His guess was right.

Zoro puts on his gloves and ducks slightly to look at Sanji’s face, but the latter is hiding it with the pillow.

Cold fingers probe Sanji’s inner thighs, and he wants to holler something nasty just to spite the psycho, but he knows that provoking the monster isn’t the right call at this point. He clutches the pillow’s corners and moans every time Zoro stretches his butt-cheeks apart.

“Just a tear. No signs of infection.” He reports, and Sanji gladdens at the news because he thought–and judging by the scale of the pain–that something really ugly was happening down there. “There’s a little inflammation though, not that bad.”

“I just need to know if it’s gonna gum up the works.” Sanji huffs, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s still dearly hugging.

Zoro leans back, taking his gloves off. “You can turn around now.”

Sanji rolls his eyes at how domineering this guy is. “Do this. Do that,” he grumbles, doing as ordered nonetheless. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”

“I kind of think it does.” Zoro jokes back. “Anyway, it’s going to feel painful and itchy for the next few days, but nothing chronic so don’t worry.” He says, “I’ll bring you some ointments containing anesthetics; it’ll help reduce the pain. Also, you need rest, don’t move a lot so you won’t aggravate the wound.”

“Thanks, Doc”–Sanji gives a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes–“I don’t know what I’d have done without your examination.” He scoffs, humorlessly. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Zoro’s lively face wavers, and that’s when Sanji’s blood runs cold again. After a silent–terrifyingly scary–pause, Zoro rises to his feet and hides a hand in his pocket, and the other balling the gloves remains by his hip.

“So why am I still bleeding?” Sanji asks, now looking somewhere over Zoro’s shoulders.

“You probably grazed it while you showered,” he says, and when Sanji gives him that dejected ‘had to scrub it clean,’ he adds on a small sigh. “Your anus looks red and puffy, so you shouldn’t touch it. Leave it until the tear mends.” He turns around, heading for the front door. “I’ll be back later to bring in food and the ointments.” He pauses. “By the way, that paper plan was pretty smart, but there’s a little detail you forgot about in your little strategic scheme. I’m smarter.” He says. “I’ve added a padlock to the door, you’re not getting out of here again.”

Sanji takes a lungful and lets it out in the spurt of a prolonged exhale.

 

The next two or three days go by rather quickly with Zoro coming in, applying the ointment to Sanji’s anus, bringing him food, and helping him eat. The two say nothing to each other and Sanji does his best to bear with Zoro probing his ass because the inflammation is ouch. But there’s this one time where he was lying on his stomach with his hands folded overhead, and Zoro was sitting on the edge of the bed, applying the ointment. When he was done, instead of taking his supplies and scramming, he actually lingered there, wordless; until Sanji had enough and reeled his head towards the man only to see something vague swirling in his eyes. It got him worked up, and he knew immediately that the man was plotting something that wasn’t anything good.

Zoro immobilized Sanji by his shoulder blades and ignored the choosiest swear words Sanji kept throwing at him as he ducked into his neck and sank his teeth into the flesh until Sanji mewled wantonly. Zoro didn’t pull back right away. He placed more of his weight on Sanji’s back and pressed his teeth deeper, groaning as Sanji whimpered at the violent ministration. Now, growing a bulge as Sanji tilted his head to allow him more space.

He pulled back just as suddenly and went about his business just like that, leaving Sanji to deal alone with the throbbing of the bloody bruise.

Until the following day Sanji believes it marks the U-turn of his life.

 

He wakes up startled from a traumatizing dream involving Usopp along with all the friends who were supposed to still be alive and having the time of their lives in the capital. They’d risen from a puddle of blood with their indexes pointed at him.

He scrubs a trembling hand over his eyes, willing the images to disappear. He keeps chasing after air, making his chest, that is already clammy with abundant sweat, go up and down heavily.

Suddenly, there’s a new-found feeling surging within him, something telling him that a greater power is rooting for him so he can go for it, save himself. The rectal pain has long since ebbed to a faint ache, and he’s glad he bounced back pretty fast. But that’s something he should put to use. He tears off the needle of the IV bag and holds on to it because his life–and probably his friends’ too–depends on it.

As if listening in on his inner thoughts, the keys to the padlock clank and the door creaks open. A very proud Zoro saunters in, chest puffed out and hands in pockets. Sanji readies himself for the non-planned calamity.

Once Zoro nears the bed, Sanji bolts forward. Zoro’s reflex is as fast as Sanji expected. He latches onto him before he could scurry past him. Sanji elbows his side, and although Zoro grunts at the contact, he doesn’t let go of him. He pulls Sanji by the hair and throws him onto the bed, standing over him as the bed bounces under the brunt of Sanji’s weight.

“You’re provoking me on purpose,” he grits out, now surging downward to lock his hands around Sanji’s neck. “Do you enjoy this? Do you want me to hurt you more?”

Sanji looks up at the fuming eyes and fleetingly regrets his earlier decision; but as he fights to breathe, Zoro quirks a smirk that soon crescendos to an evil laugh. “This is great!” he gushes, pressing his fingers more on Sanji’s windpipe as the latter flails his arms and legs, trying to get away from his claws. “I can hurt you as much as you want.”

Sanji brings the needle then and swipes it at Zoro’s face, leaving a long trail of blood from his cheekbone to his jawline. Zoro’s smirk falls, and he slowly lets go of Sanji but keeps on straddling him anyway. He touches the newly-made cut. He inspects his fingers and they’re smeared with blood. He snorts, but it’s humorless. “You cut me!” He looks astounded by the revelation. “You actually cut me!”

Sanji gives a self-satisfied smirk. “Serves you right, you sick son of a bitch.”

Zoro tosses his head to the back and lets out a throaty maniacal laugh; Sanji is horrified by it as he stills completely. He’s just cut the bastard’s face. There’s no accounting for what’s going to follow. He did guess a slap, a kick or a punch that would send stars over his head, but he never expected this.

The laugh diminuendos to a chuckle eventually as he brings his eyes on Sanji’s trembling ones. He tilts his head dangerously and something wicked flashes across his face as he smirks evilly. “My turn.”

Sanji doesn’t even get the chance to let the newsflash sink in before he gets pulled up by the collar and then punched on one side of his face: again, and again, and again. Sanji is lying on his back with both arms over his head, his nose and lips nothing but a pond of blood. His eyes roll under his lids, but nothing registers other than the dull pain all over his head. He feels his body getting dragged, but he is too disoriented to focus on what’s being done to him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

Was he too hasty by attempting to flee again?

He knew he was no match for Zoro but it’s not like his fighting skills are lacking. He frankly thought he could take on the man this time that he wasn’t in too much pain.

But boy was he wrong.

The wallops to his head have finally kicked in, and Sanji expects a full-blown seizure in exactly a few minutes from now. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to seize in front of a man who would most likely jerk off at the sight than help him through it. –loud rattling brings his focus back together, and he can make out the green enamel and the fluorescent lights. He is then instantaneously tossed to the ground.

Zoro stands atop him, looking at him with blank eyes that show no glint, no compassion.

Just a cold glare that makes Sanji wonders about his luck… that he was caught by someone –something like this.

The tremors traveling up-and-down his scrawny body are the first indication that his seizure is going to hit soon on full blast. He switches to sleep on his side, but Zoro’s leg nudges his chest and forces him on his back again. Sanji eventually lets him have it his way because there is no way around the fact that he will end up with a concussion, a tennis ball sized bump, and a blistering migraine.

He never takes his eyes away from Zoro’s though.

He knows something is messed up about that. First, he let Zoro bite his neck, and fuck if he weren’t so much of a coward he’d have admitted that he, in fact, had let Zoro bite him merely because he enjoyed it. Damn it, he really enjoyed it, and that was the most mind-boggling and scary thing about it. Bit by bit, he was enjoying the things Zoro would do to him now and then.

He knows Zoro is sedulously waiting for when Sanji will seize so he can feast his eyes and please himself, but something within Sanji, something… dark, he thinks, something that’s festered just recently is actually looking forward to this. Zoro can’t get enough stimulation and pleasure from cutting into the flesh alone anymore, and Sanji’s pain is basically the only thing that gives this man a reason to go to these lengths, punish and hurt. Sanji wants to laugh out loud, but his entire body is convulsing so he can’t.

He fears what might become of him.

Zoro is not human, there is no humanity left in this creature; but what if whatever that is, it’s contagious?

No, no, no…  
Sanji isn’t a cold-blooded killer. Sanji doesn’t find pleasure in people’s pain. He is nothing like Zoro.

He enjoyed the bite because his body is weak to pleasure induced pain, a normal body reaction.

His pupils sink under his lids, and he loses the sense of time and place as his body stiffens and starts seizing.

  
Sanji awakes suddenly, wheezing and groaning. It’s dark, pitch black. He hears clanging and clinking, chains maybe. He tries to move his hands to assist the damage done to his face, but the movement is impeded when something pulls at his wrists. The haziness on his focus finally dissipates, and Sanji realizes he’s on his knees. His arms parted overhead.

So, wait a damn second, just what exactly happened here?

Sanji remembers being beaten to a pulp but beyond that… No, he did seize, did he not? And it most likely wasn’t a tonic-clonic judging by the level of his nausea and headache. But just before that, didn’t Zoro take him to another room –lab is actually more like it? He remembers the glossy enamel floor and the white walls, it –everything was swirling inside his head, so he’s not sure. Besides, he’s still a little ‘punchy’ from being incapacitated so maybe he’s getting ahead of himself here.  
He tugs his hands to him but the restraints on his wrists, metal, he can tell, they’re pulling back against him. He can feel gritty dust scratching his toes, so he guesses the floor is overlaid with it because it feels thick.

Suddenly, the room is flooded with blinding light, and Sanji winces under its brilliance, hiding his pupils under his lids. He slowly opens then again to survey his new surroundings.

It’s a square, white-walled, green enamel-floored room, roughly twenty feet across from where he’s perched. He checks his wrists that are currently chained to two metal hooks inserted fifteen feet up to the ceiling, each on an opposite corner so that his arms are spread open over his head. There are more hooks on the wall and spider webs on the sloped corners. There’s a red settee before him. Towards the far corner of the room, there’s a faucet and a drain grid.

Echoing whistling, rhythmic enough to sound eerie, garners Sanji’s attention as he reels his head to the source.

The shiny loafers, the lab coat, and the puffed-out chest… Sanji peers at the approaching man through bleary eyes. The impassive eyes, the cold smirk and the evil countenance of the evil man, Roronoa Zoro, finally stands before Sanji.

“Sleeping beauty is finally up,” Zoro says in that dark voice of his that, much to Sanji’s chagrin, echoes with such vividness. “’Was wondering if I had to kiss you to break the spell.”

Sanji wets the inside of his mouth that’s too dry for his liking. “What” –another swallow and an eye roll– “Where am I? What is this place?”

Zoro crouches down to Sanji’s eye level, gives a small sigh before looking around at the room. “This” –he motions at their surroundings and looks back at Sanji– “is where you’re gonna live from now on.”

A deep scowl takes over Sanji’s face. Something about that newly-made scar on Zoro’s face soothes his festering anger. He’s done well by scarring this man’s face.

“Used to be my personal lab but then I had them renovate the damn place,” he says, now lifting his feet and dusting off his knees. “Haven’t used it in a while, but then you’re always the exception to the rule.”

Sanji yanks the chains but they don’t give. Of course, they don’t. “So, what now?” He scoffs, clears his stuffy throat and expectorates blood on the enamel. “We’re gonna continue to play this game, kinda redundant, don’t you think?”

Zoro eyes everything Sanji does, his eyes narrowing searchingly for a second before he shrugs slightly. “Yea, I guess we are.” He says, “Until I’m bored.”

Sanji clenches his fists. “Look, man” he starts, trying a different approach this time because, obviously, violence would only cause more violence. “I don’t care if you’re a psycho who likes hearing himself talk and I don’t even care if you want to keep me here, locked up for your own entertainment, banzai for the catch.”

Zoro is listening intently.

“Just,” he gulps audibly. “Please, just let my friend go.”

“Now,” Zoro swings his index threateningly. “I’m impervious to what you say, but that’s such a terrific idea.”

Sanji’s face lightens up.

“But” –He says and Sanji scowls again– “I’m opinionated and dogmatic, according to you that is, right?” He glares heatedly at Sanji now. “So I’m probably the last one you want to negotiate with.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Sanji demures. “You’re tampering with my words!”

“I beg your pardon?” Zoro looks deceptively shocked. “I fed you, treated your wounds, and looked after you” he ends up barking by the last sentence, now pointing his index at his scarred face. “And this is how you repay me?”

When Sanji’s lips twitch into a tiny triumphant smirk, Zoro grips his hair, yanks his head backward until Sanji can’t help, but groan. Their eyes meet and Zoro’s silhouette makes him look more frightening than he already is. “Were you not listening?” he clenches harder. He tsks and suddenly frees Sanji’s hair, “Look what you’ve done,” he eyes the same hand he assaulted Sanji’s hair with. “You’ve gotten blood on me.”

Sanji furrows deeply at the man. He can say something really smartass-y right now, but he’s not ready for the consequences yet.

Zoro takes out a burgundy handkerchief, and Sanji fights against picking on Zoro’s girly taste. The psycho wipes his hands and places the handkerchief in the pocket of his lab coat, “I guess it’s to be expected,” he says, “I spoil you too much.”

Sanji scoffs humorlessly to that.

“That’s why,” his wicked eyes fall on Sanji’s at this. “I’ve made new rules.”

Sanji blinks to clear his vision.

“Rule number one,” he starts, “Hygiene.” He says, now undoing one of the binds on Sanji’s wrists. “You keep yourself clean,” he orders. “Keep your new home clean.”

Sanji’s hand flops to his thigh weightless. As Zoro unchains the other hand, Sanji feels that instinctive need to flee this place again and he tries to suppress it with all the power he has left. Zoro walks to the left side and comes with a metal bucket and a crummy looking sponge, which Sanji didn’t notice before. He tosses them at his captive’s knees until they clang, and then he thrusts his hands into his pockets.

“You’re joking, right?” Sanji snorts at the absurdity of the situation.

Zoro eyes him impassively, “I want the place spotless.”

Okay, so let Sanji get this straight. He’s spent God knew how long sedated, in pain and raped in that room, and now that he finally changed airs –not that it’s five stars with a view– but Zoro is suddenly asking him to vacuum?

Zoro gives that impatient sigh, now crouching before Sanji. “Look, you can’t keep disobeying me. If I tell you to do something, you do it, okay?” saying so, he brings his fingers and brushes Sanji’s recent hickey, barely ghosting over the bruised skin. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Sanji–” He suddenly snorts on a snicker. “Actually I do,”

Sanji recoils slightly from the fingers, terror seizing him.

“But you know, don’t speed things up.” Zoro brings his hands back to his pockets as he levers up to his feet. “Follow the rules, is all I’m saying.” He puffs out his muscled chest. “But be a smartass again, and your friend buys the farm.”

At the mention of his friend, Sanji loses all his composure. “Why can’t I see him?” he demands. “You’ve promising me things, but you don’t keep your word either.” He says, “You’ve had your fun with me man. Just let us go already. We won’t rat on you. We’ll forget everything happened and never speak of this to a soul, huh, what’ ya think?”

Zoro’s lips twitch and furl, but quickly loosen. His face is set in hard lines as he gives the other a pointed stare.

“I don’t think I want to hear you talk anymore Sanji.”

Sanji’s mouth is suddenly cupped by one of Zoro’s palms. He fumbles through his pockets for something; Sanji makes sure he goes down fighting as he squirms and scratches the other. Zoro's hand finally comes out with a leather mouth gag, and he doesn’t waste any second as he wraps it around Sanji’s face and thrusts the stuffy part into his injured mouth. The latter shakes his head to stop Zoro from clipping the damn suffocating gag, but Zoro tightens the grip of the straps and does the buckle. He totters to the back after the effort and squares his shoulder, now eying his handiwork.

Sanji is still kneeling on the floor. His hands probing the buckle in the back of his head and his eyes are glaring up at his captor.

“I’ll take it off when you’ve learned how to show some respect.” he starts. “You see, people are too engrossed, and you’re no different. A lot of things you take for granted are actually privileges.” He says, “And for you to learn that, you have to follow the rules. The more rules you follow, the better you are, the better you are, the more privileges you earn.”

Sanji takes in a shaky breath and lets his hands fall beside his hips.

“Plain and simple.” Zoro comments on a faint shrug, “Nothing too complicated, right?”

Sanji lowers his gaze. He stares wide-eyed somewhere over his lap, and Zoro has to crook his head to look at Sanji’s face. “Rules, Sanji.” He sings-songs, “remember what rule number one was?”

Sanji is doing a mental check on the possible odds that might follow with him taking the gag off and hitting Zoro’s head with the metal bucket. He knows the plan might work, and he might actually succeed at taking the other down, but he has no recollection of his seizure, and Zoro hasn’t mentioned anything about anticonvulsant. So, how is he going to be sure it’s going to go according to plan? He might seize in the next few minutes, and he will have no power to make it stop.  
Zoro scratches his nape and breathes out of his nose. “Rule number one, J, come on.”

Sanji can suddenly hear a slight degree of impatience creeping in the other’s voice, so he snaps out of his thoughts and tries to remember what rule number one was. He eyes the bucket and the sponge, and suddenly it sinks in.

Hygiene

He slowly reaches for the bucket and the sponge, grips it in his lean hand and stares up at Zoro who chuckles softly. He ignores the man who, by the looks of it, is having so much fun, and he tries to stand up on his two shaky legs. He manages a couple of steps before he falls, shoulder-first, on the wall. Thankfully, the spigot is just a couple of meters ahead so he rejoices because, true, he didn’t except this before, but he is so disoriented and queasy.

He fills up the bucket to the half and returns to where Zoro is standing.

“A quick learner, aren’t you?”

Sanji looks irritably at him before he drops to his knees, feeling the cold floor. Zoro shows some audacity by walking out of his way to sit on the settee, arms outstretched on the headrest and legs crossing on one another. Sanji dips the sponge into the cold water. He wrings it out and starts mopping the blood off the floor.

Zoro watches intently as the blood on the floor dilutes under Sanji’s throughout cleansing. His dark eyes follow the movement, and when Sanji glances swiftly at him, there’s no particular emotion on that empty face. Their eyes meet on the fly, making Sanji’s entire body shudder. He quickly looks at the area he’s scrubbing, and he licks his lips, ready to exchange a few words with this monster because the boredom is going to drive him insane faster than the psycho.

He unbuckles the straps and holds on to the mouth gag, just in case Zoro flips. “So what’s your deal?” Sanji starts, one shoulder taut because he’s leaning on it and the other is rocking back and forth as he scrubs the floor with the sponge, the damn blood stains aren’t going away. “’Seems like you have all the time in the world since you’re spending most of your time in than you do out.”

Zoro is silent for the next few seconds before he sags back on the headrest with a little sigh. He props his elbow on the armrest and leans on his knuckles, “I remember saying I didn’t like to hear you talk anymore.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Any of it sinking in?”

“Humor me.” Sanji grits out.

“Tell me,” he starts, “Did you like it when I raped you?”

Sanji stills, and he can tell his eyes are widening with shock.

“I didn’t ask you to stop.” Zoro’s reminder is spoken in a soft tone, but Sanji’s stomach does a vigorous somersault at its brunt. When he resumes the scrubbing, Zoro continues, “So, did you like it?”

Sanji stifles in his anger, but it’s no use when his fingers are getting colder and number, irritating him some more. “Nobody enjoys getting fucked in the ass, especially on the dry.”

“So your argument is,” Zoro drawls, “If it weren’t on the dry, you’d have enjoyed it?” he scoffs, “that’s plausible.”

Sanji throws the sponge into the bucket until water droplets bounce everywhere. He turns around, still squatting on the floor. His glare hardens, and his jaw clenches. “You seem like you’ve made quite the habit of tampering with everything I say,” He breathes out, accusingly. “I didn’t like it; I didn’t like you shoving your dick up my ass. I didn’t like it on the dry, but I won’t necessary like it on a lube either.” He says, “It was disgusting and painful,” the burning look in his eyes doesn’t waver. “I’ll kill you if you lay your hands on me again.”

Zoro’s poker-face breaks into a predatory, cold and chilling smirk. And Sanji isn’t that slow, he knows he’s just played into Zoro’s hands, and although he’d rather take all of it back, he knows he can’t. And Zoro has just gotten his hands on valuable information. Inside Zoro’s brain, probably any talk which doesn’t involve pain gets sieved out, and the only thing repeating inside his head is ‘it was painful.’

He regrets opening his mouth and yapping; he regrets it pretty fucking bad.

“Put the gag back on.” He orders, his voice gentle.

Gentle means trouble is coming; Sanji can read him loud and clear now, most of his sick traits anyways. And he knows better than to disobey; he’s done enough by taking the gag off and spilling his heart to any old Joe blow enough to provoke his abductor. He puts the gag back on and does the buckle, but since Zoro is keeping his eyes on him, he tightens the straps enough to leave a mark. He hates the feeling of his mouth being stuffed with leather, but he bears with it so long his head isn’t getting bashed with anything.

Zoro puts the chains back on each of Sanji’s wrists; he yanks them to see if they give, they don’t. He eyes the floor and the areas Sanji washed, and then he beams, “that’s a good boy.” And just as Sanji’s body collapses with relief, Zoro’s loafer shoots forward and collides with his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Sanji whimpers and doubles over, feeling Zoro’s hand ruffling his hair. The fucker, he’s pushing his luck here. The pain feels like a fire eating gasoline as his chest burns. He wheezes to tell the damage apart, bruised ribs, nothing broken. But that’s uncalled for. Isn’t Zoro pleased with his work or what, exactly?

“If you keep me waiting so fucking long again,” Zoro starts, still beaming manically. “I’ll have you clean the entire room with your tongue.” Saying so, he walks to the door, opens it, and leaves.

The lights go off again, and Sanji is left to nurse his new injury.

It’s an astonishing pain that drags Sanji right out of his harmless dream. He doesn’t want to wake up, at least for now. He wants to go back to those trivial chitchats with his family around the dinner table, the hot soup, and the warm house. But he knows he can’t.

He blinks a few times; the unrelenting darkness proves him it’s not a choice of his. It’s something forced on him, just like how many other things became shackles on him as of late. His shoulders are sore, his ribs too, he is cold, hungry, and his mouth is gagged. He knows his body can only handle so much. It’s a race against time as of now before his body shuts down on itself, not wanting any of this anymore. Not the pain, not the helpless feeling and certainly not the upheaval which rises every time Zoro is around.

First things first though, he has to assist the recent damage done to his ribs. He’d have been too hasty with his examination before. He is not coughing up blood. Sanji sighs because it’s a good sign since the threat of a punctured lung seems to have been avoided. He takes a deep breath but feels stinging pain below his ribcage, so it’s probably just a bruise. A nasty one at that but he’ll manage.

The lights stream through the morbid dread of darkness, blinding Sanji with the resultant radiance. He lowers his head and slowly opens his eyes, helping them adapt to the surge of light. The door rattles open, and Zoro walks in, wearing a brown knee-length coat over a dress shirt. There’s something like a bowl in his hand, and that haughty smirk hasn’t worn off. He stands motionless once he reaches Sanji, only eying him fixedly.

“Hungry, Sanji?”

Said male looks at his captor through slanted eyes before he looks away, nauseated at the sight of those evil eyes.

“Ignoring me?”

Sanji winces inwardly because nothing good ever happens after Zoro uses that questioning tone.

Zoro crouches beside Sanji. He puts the bowl down and unclips the gag. Sanji feels immense relief that his jaw isn’t parted anymore, drool spills down his jaw but he’s been through worse. He can handle this.

“Let’s try again,” Zoro says in his deep voice, “You hungry?”

Sanji’s eyes flick towards the contents of the bowl, a meager quantity of fried rice. His stomach growls at the smell, giving him away. Sanji finds no other option but to admit the facts because he’s not hungry, he’s starving, any food will do. He nods after his eyes glance back at Zoro’s.

The latter gives a brittle smirk, “Asked you a question, J.” He reminds, “It’s rude not to answer.”

Sanji would elbow the bastard in the eye if he could. He knows there’s no way around the fact that he has to utter words, not of spite, but to keep the monster entertained. “Yes.”

Zoro scoff. “Now”, he starts. “Is that any way to ask for food?”

Sanji bears with it for the sake of food, “I’m hungry.” He says through gritted teeth. “Give me food.”

Zoro shakes his head, feigning disappointment, “I guess you don’t want it after all.” He levers up to his feet and makes to leave. Sanji reaches for him with his body until the chains jingle.

“Wait!” He calls out, and when Zoro pauses mid-stride and turns around, that fucking expectant look on his face making him look like a child. Sanji gulps his anger and stares upon the enamel floor, “Please…”

Zoro cocks his head. “What was that?”

Sanji clenches his fists, “I’m really hungry. Can I eat the rice, please?”

Zoro plunges his hands into his pockets and lets out a rather contented sigh, “That’s another thing you took for granted.” He says, “Which reminds me of the second rule.”

Sanji hardens his glare at the man.

“Gratitude.” He says with a creepy smile. “You gotta show some gratitude for the things I do for you.”

Sanji lets out an abrupt chuckle, “Does that mean I should thank you for hurting me as well?” he scoffs, “For killing my friends?”

Zoro only keeps that creepy smile on and then he leaves altogether. Sanji’s eyes are fixated on the door, wondering if Zoro leaving without a word is a good thing or not, or if he’s just sentenced his friend and himself to certain death. The lights don’t go out this time, and when nothing else happens. Sanji finally musters the courage to look away from the door and onto the bowl of rice before him. His face is slowly coated crimson with humiliation, he even went and begged.

 

Some undetermined time later, the door opens again, and Zoro walks in, still smiling creepily. Sanji examines the man’s hands, if they’re holding something and he feels slight relief when he finds nothing. Zoro then stops when he reaches the settee his eyes peering down at his captive.

“You’ve got too much damn time on your hands,” Sanji glances at the man after wetting his lips. “Doc.”

Zoro ducks his head with a tiny side smile on his lips, he lifts the bowl and after he locks eyes with Sanji. He spills the contents of the bowl onto the enamel.  
“Screwing with my mind, is that it?” Sanji huffs, his irises momentarily hiding under his lids.

“No,” Zoro denies, “Screwing with your stomach.”

Sanji gulps. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?” Zoro dares with false curiosity. “Last I checked, humans can’t go on without food, you might still act stubborn, say, ten days from now?” he says, “but what about two weeks from now? Three?”

Sanji gives an arrogant chuckle, “And you honestly think I’d stay here for that long?”

“You think you can check out?” Zoro scoffs, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. “Well, I’d like to see you try.”

Sanji’s features draw into a scowl. “I’m going home,” he says, defiantly. “Right after I slit your throat.”

Zoro furrows. “But what to do,” he says. “I already decided to inflict unimaginable pain on you before you turn back and bite.”

Sanji’s eyes widen at the news.

“It’s probably why you’ll need that food,” he says, flippantly, “to keep in shape.”

“Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Sanji grits his teeth because he currently has no comebacks for that. He’s been promising to finish the man off for a while now, but Zoro still managed to have his fun with him in his own sick, twisted way.

Zoro gives a conceited hum, “That’s what I thought.”

There’s silence for a moment -the silence before a storm. Sanji doesn’t want to dive into reading the little twitches in the nuances of Zoro’s face, trying to gauge up what possible mood he’d be wallowing in, but the silence is almost eerie for Sanji to be chilling back. Zoro then, and very slowly, slides his hand into the chest pocket of his coat, and it comes out holding a syringe. Sanji’s heart drops to his stomach.

“You remember your old pal, Sanji?”

Said male’s fists clench impossibly hard. It can’t be, it just can’t. He starts pulling against the chains, wanting to flee away at any cost because any torture is better than the pain inducer. “No” he growls crossly, “No!”

Zoro pets Sanji’s head, kneading through the tousled strands. “Easy” he breathes out, now pulling Sanji’s head to his chest, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “Easy.”

Sanji squirms more, his panting growing frantic, “No, please, not that.” His voice cracks, “Zoro.”

The latter shushes him with the gentleness of a mother, “You left me no choice, Sanji.” He whispers on the crown of said man’s head. “I have to do this, don’t fight it,” he commands, his voice shockingly soothing. “Don’t make me hurt you more.”

Sanji’s heart is erratic at this rate, waging an impending full-fledged hyperventilation, “No one’s making you do anything.” Sanji practically wails, “Zoro, please… please, anything but this.”

Silence sips in for a second before any of them speaks again.

“Anything?” Zoro asks, the smirk he’s wearing coming through in his voice.

Sanji cringes, if he gives in this one time, everything he’s worked for to maintain his pride will keel over and crumble down, but he doesn’t want another shot of that pain inducer. He doesn’t want to feel that ever again, but he doesn’t want to yield to this heartless monster for a man either.

“Sanji?” Zoro urges. His deep voice and savory scent making Sanji fleetingly undecided, but he knows he has only fragments of a second to savor the fleeting sense of sanctuary before Zoro spurts out his fangs at him and snatch whatever this is from right under him. He nods, it’s slow, tentative and he hates himself for this.

Zoro chuckles darkly on Sanji’s hair; the sound is reverberating through Sanji with such animosity, ridiculing him for all the misfortunes he’s just signed up for with his full awareness. “But, Sanji” Zoro starts, “Why’d you assume I’d care what you want?”

Sanji wrenches himself from the impermanent shelter, his eyes horrified.

Zoro’s eyes are a pair of dead pupils that show blatant impassiveness. The syringe penetrates Sanji’s neck and he feels its nib pricking him, he hisses and repels himself backward.

“You…” He groans, “You sick bastard…”

"So I've been told." Zoro says with a grin, his hand coming up to run softly through Sanji's hair.

The feeling is anyway different from what he experienced before. This almost feels like a cold numbness wiggling its way throughout his body.

And bit by bit, darkness engulfs him whole.

 

***

 

Sanji awakes at the sensation of something cold cricking his nipples. He lets out a mewl through his gagged mouth before he can just whose novel hand is probing him. But recent events have entrenched only one possibility for that, so before even opening his eyes, he knows it’s Roronoa Zoro, plotting for something bizarre again.

  
“’Back from the land of the dead?”

  
At this, Sanji’s heavy lids part open, still a slit though. His pupils roam unfocused before they settle on the man sitting on the settee as though it’s his legitimate throne, eying Sanji’s body with intense hanger. The latter’s entire body stiffens as a shudder runs through him.

  
“You’ve been out of it for a couple of days now,” he says, “I was starting to worry.”

  
Leave it to the gag to keep him from coming up with a good comeback for that.

  
“As you can see,” Zoro chats on, “I’ve taken the initiative to do something for you because you were a good boy, you cleaned the floor,” he says, “Good boys deserve a treat.”

  
Sanji frowns for an explanation.

  
“Although it’s a little imposing on your privacy, I’ve cleaned you up, thoroughly,” he enunciates it for emphasis, “Shaved your ugly stubble as well.” He reports, “You won’t be needing clothes from now on, I got rid of them.”

  
Sanji eyes himself, and he’s shocked to see not only is he naked, but there’s some sort of a silver collar on his neck that is connected to a chain. The chain parts halfway and each end is clipped to his nipples with a clamp. It’s probably what caused the cricking feeling earlier.

  
Zoro twines his fingers together and adopts that smoky tone of voice again, “Remember what you said before I sedated you?”

  
Sanji can’t exactly answer even if he wanted to because there’s a gag in his mouth.

  
“Anything,” Zoro sing-songs, “You said anything was better, thus, you’ve given me your total permission to do anything I want with you –not that I needed it, but it helps you feel like this is consensual, so to speak.” He says, “I’m willing to forgive all your misbehaviors, give you a second chance, more or less, all you need to do is kneel and part your legs shoulder length.”

  
Sanji’s eyes widen at that.

  
“Or,” Zoro lifts an index, “I can resort to violence again, what with me using my trump card of harming your friend and we both know I’ll get what I want with that, it’s easier, but not really that fun.”

  
Just what is he trying to accomplish with such a senseless argument, really?  
Sanji doesn’t understand the need for the nipple clamps. Zoro has that sadistic streak, but he never thought it’d be easily labeled, what with Zoro resorting to slave collars and –wait a damn second. Does this make Sanji a slave? Or better yet, does Zoro think that he can enslave Sanji, and the BDSM toys would give it a realistic meaning?

  
“I don’t really need words,” Zoro speaks again, “Just part your knees if you aren’t apt for more violence, personally, I just want to have a little fun for now. I’ve had a pretty crappy day and raping you sounds like it’d sate my anger.”

  
He’s angry?

  
Sanji has thought that Zoro’s anger came in the spurts of unrelenting violence. Never once did he stop to think that the violent Zoro is actually Zoro in a merry mood. This new version of Zoro tells him that the man is not just angry, he is livid. And if Sanji lets this man head to his friend’s, Luffy might as well end up dead, gorily so, and Zoro wouldn’t even bat an eye.  
He’s never thought it’d come to this; actually, he kind of did before he was even raped, but living it like this it sort of changes his entire point of view. Being stripped of his pride and dignity like this, literally, it brings about a whole sensation, that of hopelessness and misery. To have a man –a psycho, no less–  strip you down and order you around as though you’re his whore. The anger swirling down Sanji’s stomach is about to erupt. He knows that as long as Zoro has that trump card up his sleeve, he won’t be able even to put up a fight. No, maybe, wallowing in this bottomless hatred will ignite that fire for revenge all over again and he won’t crumble under the despair.

  
And as Zoro sits there, legs crossed with his cheek propped on a hand’s knuckles, Sanji demurs, but eventually and very slowly parts his knees. The sickening clanking of chains adhered to the hooks is making him feel revolted. His eyes wander about the lab before settling back on Zoro’s nocuous eyes that are eating him up without shame. He suddenly uncrosses his long legs and levers up to his feet. Sanji, wide-eyed and horror-stricken, he stares at the other as he approaches him, heavy footfalls echo in the vacant room. He comes to a halt when he’s a feather-length away, his hip level to Sanji’s face. The latter looks up, feeling the metal collar tickling his nape when he does, but he ignores it in favor of being vigilant or pretending to be, anyway.

  
Zoro only stands there, wordless. Suddenly, his right hand comes up, ghosts over Sanji’s cheek. His cold fingertips that make him shudder but not completely recoil.  
“Such luscious lips, even if scarred” –he thumps said lips slightly– “Feline eyes” –ghosts both thumps now over said eyes, and the mole under the corner of Sanji’s eye– “porcelain skin.” He almost moans at the feeling of smooth skin under his touch.

  
Sanji is gradually furrowing, having someone as psychotic as Zoro boss you around wasn’t much of a blow to his nuts, but he has to listen to the same twisted man admiring his good body traits and even cop a feel. He gasps abruptly when fingers knead through his recently washed hair.

  
“Our relationship is growing rather stagnant, wouldn’t you say?” Zoro asks in undertone.

  
Relationship?

  
Zoro calls this a ‘relationship’?

  
Sanji wants to laugh his head off at the term, mock Zoro for his poor interpretation, even the ‘be-my-toy’ script is far better than labeling this as something that only normal people should have.

  
“I reckon you feel the same,” Zoro notes out, conversationally. His right hand now working the fingers into Sanji’s already gagged mouth. As the latter squirms, hating the added stuffing making it difficult to breathe, Zoro speaks on, “You’ve been tucked away into your new home, kept to nurse your craving for normalcy, for a human touch.”  
Sanji’s squirming stops and he looks up, meeting Zoro’s wicked eyes that are… they are looking back at him, but there’s something within, something utterly new that should not be there.

  
There is kindness.

  
“I’m not raving to win you over by the way,” he says, “I’ve concluded you have the potential to be entertaining, that’s all.”  
Zoro isn’t making any sense now, Sanji concludes.

  
There’s something different today, something that can have disastrous consequences. He thinks something that has the ability to ruin his resolve.

  
Zoro uses his other unoccupied hand to unclip the gag, pull it and toss it aside until copious saliva splatter across the area on the floor it fell. Drool spills down Sanji’s jaw as he regains relief from having something as annoying as a gag stuffed into his mouth for hours.

  
He chuckles when he feels fingers still lingering in his hair, “Now, even Shakespeare would bow to that,” he smirks at the other, “I almost dropped a tear.”

  
Those fingers in his hair massage the scalp sensually, grazing the ear tips and the head crown, pulling and pressing, just like a lover’s kiss, they suddenly stop. “Those fatuous comments of yours will be the death of you someday.”

  
“And when’s that?” Sanji dares. Deep within, he knows grating on Zoro’s nerves, especially when he is ‘angry’, is basically spoiling for a disaster, but it’s like a pull that you can’t resist no matter what. Zoro isn’t as busy as to deny him that.

  
“How about we put that potty mouth of yours to use?” Zoro hums, impatience creeping into his voice, “Open your mouth.”

  
“As inviting as it sounds,” Sanji begins, “But no thanks, I’ll decline the offer.”

  
Loud ringing goes off in Sanji’s left ear, followed by a stinging pain in his cheek, and he soon realizes he’s just been slapped.

  
“You still think you get to downturn an order?” Zoro huffs, his thick brows meeting across his marred forehead, “Open your mouth.”

  
Sanji hardens his glare as though it’d daunt Zoro into releasing him along with his friends, as though it’d define how odious this treatment is.

  
Zoro lifts his hand again and it comes down fast, and hard, landing on Sanji’s cheek again. The latter’s head is jerked, looking elsewhere. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, Sanji.” He threatens, looking intimidating enough to actually scare an unmoving sculpture.

  
“You’ve had a crappy day at work,” Sanji’s voice is low, anger evident in it, “So what, you just come in here to fuck up mine?” He chides, eyes glaring fumingly at the other now. “Well, here’s a newsflash for you bud,” he snorts, “You and your orders can suck my dick.”

  
“Actually,” Zoro brightens up with a creepy smirk, “You are.” Saying so, he unzips his fly and his cock springs free, hard and veiny. Sanji did miss the bulge but merely because he was more frightened by evil eyes making him feel uncanny about everything. “If you bite it, or as much as graze it with your teeth,” Zoro warns. “I’ll head to the room at the end of the hall and shoot your friend right in the pelvis, won’t even look back as I leave him there as he is slowly dying such a painful death.”

  
Sanji quickly parts his lips open, not wanting to hear any threats concerning his friend. Besides, if a blowjob is all this sick bastard wants, then so be it. Sanji is only doing this to keep his friend safe, he isn’t doing this because Zoro ordered him to. This is something that gifts him with more self-respect; he’d lost it in him before, hated being reduced to a means of sexual frustration relief. But he thinks he is doing quite alright by taking on this man’s demand to save Luffy.

  
Zoro, completely oblivious to the anger rifling through his captive, he plunges his cock into the open mouth, sighing at the welcoming heat.

  
Sanji tries to run from this by closing his eyes so tightly that rainbow colors explode in his vision. So, because this is forced on him, Sanji promises to act just like it, keep his lips parted and bear with it until Zoro’s had enough. But, apparently, the man has no plan of doing this one-sidedly. As he thrusts into the hot, wet mouth, he tugs at the nipple clamps, making Sanji mewl again at the cricking pull. The vibrating down his throat makes Zoro groan. Well, one thing for sure, Sanji understands the need for the nipple clamps now.  
Zoro’s hands clutch at Sanji’s golden hair from both sides, tugging at it as he thrusts into Sanji’s mouth like a dog humping a couch. Sanji feels like death in the woods by a maniac bowman would have been a lot more merciful than this. At least he would end up dead, not raped from the upper end.

  
Gosh, he can’t breathe. He feels Zoro’s dick reaching all the way to his throat, plugging it and keeping air from passing through. And the harder he yanks the chains, the more miserable he feels. Zoro keeps poking at the nipple clamps, groaning every time Sanji moans because the inside vibration tickles the crown of his cock.

  
Sanji feels hot liquid touching the back of his tongue, he knows what it is, but he won’t even give it as much as a thought. It’d only wound his manhood otherwise.  
When Zoro approaches climax, at fucking last, he draws his cock out of Sanji’s mouth and spurts his cum on the swollen lips instead; the proclaim skin of his face and neck and chest, and the long lashes of the feline eyes. Sanji’s eyes water, all the tears that want to roll down his face, for being submitted to such humiliation.

  
“As much as I’d love to see you swallow,” Zoro quirks a grin, “But I’d hate to be left with the trouble of looking after your stomachache.” Saying so, he tucks his cock back beneath his underwear and adjusts the fly. “Now, can you tell me what you learned from that?”

  
Sanji scoffs without a single trace of a smile, “That you need help?”

  
“A facetious remark, indeed.” Zoro’s grin is still radiant as he walks back to the settee, picks out something that Sanji miserably failed to notice earlier and he moves forward again, only this time, he sidesteps Sanji who is intermittently coughing. “Obedience, Sanji, you need to start learning some obedience.”

  
At that, Sanji hears a deep whoosh in the air before something cold collides with his back, and he screams as pain spreads through him. Another whoosh and Sanji’s entire body jerks, the chains rattle ominously, reminding him, time and again, that there could be no escape from this. He screams again when the single-tailed whip latches and strikes his back. He knows it’s going to leave him with nasty welts across his back, and the nasty contusion in his chest hasn’t gone away either. He doesn’t know how he stifles in the scream the next time the whip leaves a mark on him, telling a story of how painful it’s been. But it works on Zoro’s nerves as he adds more force to his strikes. This time, the welts start to bleed.  
By the time Zoro throws the whip away, splattering blood as it spins in the air, Sanji is still and silent. Zoro, at least, has the good grace to show little mercy by unchaining Sanji’s wrists and letting him fall to the cold enamel with a thump that just signifies he’s out like a light.

 

****

 

How many days have already passed with Sanji waking up to a different pain each day?

Is it night, or is it day?

He can’t tell anymore. He wasn’t even able to ever since he was brought in here, confined to the unrelenting darkness, bound by shackles and robbed of his freedom to fight.

He is hungry, so very hungry. Maybe he’ll die here of malnutrition and dehydration. Maybe hypothermia will finally set in, and he’ll die a slow death.

Sanji, as he lies there assuming a fetal position, he begins to wonder just for what reason was he brought to life in the first place, really, if suffering is all he has ever known. A part of his brain does understand that he is currently delirious from the pain radiating from his back. The exceedingly cold enamel helps lessen the throbbing a little bit. Getting humiliated like that, Sanji grits his teeth as his bleary eyes water more, reduced to nothing but a human toilet, a cum dump…

The dried blood on his back is an account of the lashing he took a few hours ago; the tainting his body and more, his soul.

He wonders if he can take any more of this, if he will finally break and doom himself and his friend.

He turns around very slowly, groaning when he moves wrong and jars his bruised welts, the whip marks, the evidence of getting physically abused. Does Zoro care? Yes, might happen when hell freeze over. But maybe, that might be overturned if Sanji does something for Zoro of his own accord, follow the rules, for example. It’s true he is practically blind with no single light speck seeping into the room, but Sanji relies on his hands to detect any signs of dirt. He finds more than he bargained for. Luckily, he still remembers the direction of the faucet and the drain grid. He works his way to the far corner of the room, hears the double chains of his collar cling in sync. He probes the floor and the wall for the said faucet. His hands suddenly hit something metal that clunks when it tips over and something squishy falls. He rejoices for having found the bucket and the sponge with which he can clean the floor.

After he finishes scrubbing the floor which has taken all his energy, he goes back to the faucet and washes away the crisp substance from his hair. Although it freezes his sore nipples and stings his back, Sanji continues to wash his body as well.

With this, Zoro will be satisfied, and he might give him some food.

Thankfully, when he returns to his corner, the enamel has long since dried as though the underneath cement has sucked the water dry. He rubs the area he is going to sit on, vehement in his action. When he feels it a little hot, he sits, absorbing faint warmth with such a childish delight.

The blinding lights return, and Sanji straightens up, red-rimmed eyes wide and expectant.

Zoro walks in with a small white box in his hand, hard soles hitting the enamel, echoing across the room along with the same eerie whistling. He then is standing before Sanji, tall and intimidating. But he is sneering this time; it makes Sanji wonder what kind of sick play he has planned for today.

“Wow, Sanji!” Zoro begins, gushing on with genuine approval. “Look at the place, look at you!”

Sanji’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he nods, tentatively as it may seem.

Zoro crouches beside the other on his haunches, puts the box aside and sighs after a quick once over at his captive, “You’ve done really well.” Saying so, he dispenses a gentle pat on Sanji’s head.

Sanji, still shivering from the cold water, he crumbles under the warm hand that is now palming his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans on the hand, some warmth that momentarily gifts him with the illusion that he’s back home again, safe. He lets out a shaky breath, and he clings to that hand, seeking more warmth. Suddenly, realization hits him like a slap and his eyes open wide. He finds Zoro’s face near his, that same kindness he’s seen before is deep within those usually disdainful eyes, and it terrifies him more than anything else. He recoils from that warm hand, favoring the cold touch of enamel and freezing water over anything Zoro has to offer.

Zoro retreats his hand and shrugs, “You deserve a treat for being a good boy,” he says, “tell me, ‘what you wanna eat?”

“Anything…?” Sanji requires, doubtful by his tone.

Zoro smiles, “Anything.”

After Zoro types down the food Sanji has just listed on his phone, he faces Sanji now, “anything else?”

Sanji is happy that this is paying off well for him, and he knows if he keeps on this act, he can get all he wants. But instead of doing just that, he goes against his own plan and resigns to showing his own fake subjugation to the rules. “I’m very grateful for the kindness you have shown me.”

Zoro’s face brightens up, “Wayhe, he learns!”

Sanji nods.

“You definitely deserve a treat for that too,” he gushes, “Although that’s hardly obedient, J” he smirks, “but compliance and obedience are two sides of the same coin.”

Sanji gulps audibly at the fear of his reward getting invalidated.

“Points for trying,” Zoro cocks his head a little, smiling, “You have certainly improved.” Saying so, he types more on his cell-phone before he puts it back in his pocket. “So, as we wait for your treats to come,” he starts, “How about you let me take a look at your back.”

Sanji immediately complies, shifting a little so that his back is in plain sight.

Upon examining his back, Zoro makes a soft noise, too indistinct for Sanji to distinguish. “That looks nasty,” he comments. Sanji bites back his own retort, instead, he grimaces in preemptive guilt. “Courtesy of you endeavoring to grate on my nerves earlier, ironic, isn’t it?”

At that, Sanji feels the tender touch of cotton dipped in something a little cold touching his burning skin, he hisses at the stinging but otherwise remains silent.

“You’re awfully docile today, silent too.” Zoro notes out with his hand stilling, and that’s when Sanji’s thoughts and emotions run off-kilter. Has he been wrong adopting this sort of reticent behavior? Could it be Zoro isn’t very approving of the idea of Sanji on not commenting on the things he says? Well, certainly, he almost sentenced himself to death the couple of times he went ahead and provided his levity on a silver platter, which leaves Sanji with no explanation really. Zoro’s hand resumes its ministration, and Sanji sighs out a sigh of relief. “Well, that taciturn demeanor certainly doesn’t suit you.”

“How would you like me to be then, Zoro si?”

“My, my” Zoro barks a brief and fruity laugh, “Let’s dispense with formalities, shall we?” he grins, “but you have, indeed, improved.”

“All thanks to you.” Sanji says in a monotone, and he tsks in an audible sound because he is certain there’s something in the voice he has just conducted that has had him busted.

Zoro tucks the cotton into a small plastic pack and back into the small box. “Don’t wash your welts again. It might result in an infection. Although the pain might be unbearable at first, but I’ll give you something to relief it, understand?”

Sanji nods, “clearly.”

“Now,” he starts, tagging closer to Sanji, who starts to freak out at the fact that Zoro is creeping up on him, pressing against his back until pain shoots through him again. Sanji can’t help but press up against the wall to fight his instinctive drive to flee through an open door. “I recall telling you to show more spirit into it,” he grits out, hot breath fanning Sanji’s nape. More shuffling and Zoro’s entire body warmth engulfs Sanji. He lets out a small sigh that is too indistinct for Zoro to describe. “Using that honeyed voice on me, what do you take me for?”

Sanji’s hands clutch at the wall in two fists, bracing for the oncoming torture. He can hear his breathing labored and his heartbeats erratic. Yet he knows there is no escape from it.

In an impulsive second, Sanji feels a pair of soft lips on the back of his neck, ghosting over his skin and toying with the steel collar.

“Your body,” Zoro whispers in a silvery voice that makes Sanji’s entire body quiver with something, dare he say, exciting. “I need only think of it, and I’m hard again.”

It pokes Sanji’s butt, a telltale bulge of a poorly concealed erection.

Zoro resumes nibbling at Sanji’s neck, pecking soft kisses and purring every time Sanji as much as stirs. The latter is, with all honestly, fighting to not react, but his treacherous body is already falling under a spell, what with him sighing very deeply with his eyes closed. He supports his forehead on the wall, hoping the cold would heal his feverish body that is certainly not hot as a result of his recent bruises. When Zoro behind one of his ears, very slowly that soft wet noises reverberate into his ear, Sanji lets out a prolonged moan. The cock poking him from behind is increasing in volume, and Sanji wonders if it’s such a good idea to excite Zoro like that.

“You’re probably unaware of it,” Zoro chuckles in his deep voice, “but you have been pressing back against my boner for a while now.”

Sanji’s eyes snap open at the impossible revelation, and he tries to reel around, but Zoro has probably predicted a reaction like that. He is shoving him against the wall again.

“Not so fast, tiger.” Zoro intones through a smirk, “not until I have my fun with you first.”

Sanji bears with it with all his might. He knows one wrong word and all this can go downhill, fast. He is not ready to sacrifice so much knowing his friends might be the victim of his recklessness.

He will continue to bear with it.

Zoro’s tongue runs over the recently bruised skin of Sanji’s back, and the latter whimpers at the stinging throb the action results. His fists tighten on both sides of his head as he remains there, supporting himself by the wall before he falls over.

“Sanji,” Zoro calls out in a breathy voice, “up on your knees,” he orders, “support your weight on the wall.”

And Sanji, casting shame and embarrassment aside, he abides.

Zoro also lifts up to his knees. He works his zipper open and pushes down his pants and his boxers. The cock Sanji was forced to suck earlier is springing free again, taunting Sanji when it touches the inner side of his thighs.

“Close your knees together,” Zoro breathes out into Sanji’s ear. Both his hands are working on probing the latter’s chest, exploring every nook and relishing the touch of smooth skin shuddering under his fingers. Sanji follows the order, bringing his knees together. Zoro nudges the crown of his cock along Sanji’s rim, slowly pushing in.

“W-what…” Sanji rasps, confused and flushed all the way to his ears.

“Don’t be such a prude now, Sanji.” Zoro chuckles, now biting down the tip of one of his captive’s ears. “We’ve come so far,” he says, “you already know the feeling of my cock up your ass, this isn’t so different.”

It is, though.

Zoro isn’t thrusting into him; he is making use of his thighs instead. Although he is happy that he isn’t being raped senseless, he can’t help but wonder why this of all his schemes. Is he being considerate?

Not a chance.

“Oh,” Zoro drones, “What do we have here?”

Sanji perks up at the remark, and in mere seconds, a novel hand cups his cock. He mewls at the sudden contact, his head tossing to the back until it falls on Zoro’s shoulder.

“You’re hard.” Zoro comments in a shrilling tone, as though he’s caught Sanji red-handed. As though the comment isn’t some theory subsequent to some magnificent occurrence. Sanji would give anything to deny that, that he is, indeed, erect. Zoro suddenly starts thrusting. His thump on the crown of Sanji’s cock, poking it relentlessly.

Sanji can feel Zoro’s dick hitting the back of his balls, and he doesn’t know why, but the feeling is absolute ecstasy. Zoro’s thump, although it is hurting him, he can feel precum slowly starting to overflow.

“If you cum,” Zoro starts, “I’ll cut off your tongue.”

Sanji’s face pales at that. A numbing feeling replaces the ecstasy, and he is then peering at the wall with a pair of terrified eyes. It’s not that difficult of a task to not, he but needs to remember the gore that took place in the woods and his cock will shrink.

Zoro’s tongue comes back again to toy with his bruises. As Sanji whimpers at the resultant pain, Zoro’s becomes faster. Both know that he is going to very soon, and Sanji is welcoming the idea with open arms because being treated like this is more than humiliating, it’s revolting. But he is soon robbed of his ideas when Zoro pierces the skin of his shoulder with his teeth, biting on the skin so hard that Sanji can’t help but let out a brittle scream. Zoro is coming all over the inner side of Sanji’s thighs. When he pulls away, Sanji falls over, palming the fresh wound.

“We’re not done yet.” Zoro announces atop Sanji; his flat voice tells Sanji that is a plain order.

Sanji looks up through his slanted eyes, and the still-erect member of Zoro’s gives him a bad feeling about how this is going to end. So if that wasn’t enough to satisfy Zoro, he might eventually do it the traditional way, except Zoro’s way is gorier. He can’t be satisfied if he doesn’t hurt Sanji.

“Lie flat on your back,” he instructs, “Fold your knees and pull them apart.”

Reluctantly, Sanji follows the precise order. Being stared at by Zoro makes him feel naked, he is, but it sort of stresses the feeling of helplessness. And as a blush blooms over his two cheeks, he brings his arms to drape them over his face, but Zoro is having none of it.

“And take the fun away from it?” Zoro’s arrogant smirk makes its usual appearance. “Not a chance.” Saying so, he braces his arms on either side of Sanji’s head, looming in on the man beneath like a terminating threat. At first, he rubs his cock on Sanji’s, and it seems the first trial gives him the exact thing he hoped for as he commences thrusting on his captive’s cock.

Sanji quickly reminds himself of the deaths back in the woods because something strange is happening, he is getting hard again, and worse, he is starting to feel it.

“My…” he groans, looking up at Zoro, “My back, you’re hurting my back.”

Evidently, not the smartest thing to say as Zoro furrows and glares down at Sanji who stills immediately.

But it’s really painful like this…

Zoro straightens up, not rubbing against Sanji anymore and the latter wonders if this is when Zoro fishes out for a knife to cut off his tongue. But Zoro, unpredictable son of a bitch that he is, he palms his dick and begins to nudge the crown against Sanji’s puckered entrance.

“No,” he perks up, propping on his elbow with a hand and swatting at Zoro’s shoulder with the other, “no, you can’t. I’m hurt!” He protests, vehemently. “You absolutely can’t.”

Zoro slaps Sanji’s hand away as though he’s just been touched with something so vile that he was afraid it’d taint him. And honestly, Sanji does feel tainted. He feels as though he could taint anything with just a touch. That he is unclean, inside out, that a worm like him deserves everything that happens to it, and maybe more.

“Don’t you understand?” Zoro wonders loudly. “I want it to hurt you,” he says, “Believe me, when I’m done with you, you’re going to beg me for this.”

“I’ll bite off my own tongue,” Sanji threatens, rules be damned, he is not getting fucked in the ass, not again. “Probably save you the trouble.”

Zoro tilts his head. “Such false integrity,” he intones, “when you have already been dirtied, reduced to nothing but the filth I step on with my boots.”

Sanji’s face twitches, his eyebrows, his pupils, and his lips. And he is pushing them back, but he fails utterly when his tears fall down his cheeks.

The last thing he needed is someone below him wording his worst fears for him.

“Don’t act so high and mighty now,” Zoro gives a scornful sneer, “have you already forgotten how you sucked me dry in here,” at this, he thumps Sanji’s lips before inserting it in, pressing against his tongue. “You looked like a cock-crazed slut to me.”

Sanji’s flat hand plunges forward on its own accord, aiming Zoro’s face, the latter catches it midair and smirks at the man beneath.

“How refreshing,” He hums, amusement latent in his voice. “Now why don’t you be the slut you are for my cock and lie back. Let me have some fun?”

In the end, it’s all meaningless. It’s always been, always will be.

A knock on the slightly ajar door brings them to a cautious pause, and then a three-shelf trolley table lined with a lot of food is being pushed through the door followed by a tall man dressed in black trousers, a six-button double-ed tailcoat, and a white dress shirt. The young man also wears round glasses, sports white gloves and shiny black loafers.

“Oh,” Zoro beams, “Just in time, Mihawk.”

 

Sanji rushes to sit properly after the young man, Mihawk, eyes him with such heavy-lidded eyes.

“Sir,” Mihawk bows his head slightly, “I’ve brought what you asked for.”

“Never mind that,” Zoro waves it off with a delicate hand. He looks down at the man beneath trying, so desperately, to bring his knees back together to protect himself from more humiliation. It’s amusing judging by his sneer. “I need you with this one,” he says, “chain his wrists.”

Mihawk bows in such sickening obedience “Yes sir.”

Just as Zoro retreats to the settee, Mihawk approaches Sanji. The latter worms back until he meets the wall again, but eventually capitulates to his fate as Mihawk grasps one of his flailing arms and pulls him to the center where he is only a foot away from the settee Zoro is currently occupying. Then, he brings the chains that are hooked to the ceiling, loosens them a bit and starts binding each of Sanji’s wrists.

“Well done.” Zoro compliments the strange man, the latter bows again, wording his happiness for meeting his expectation. He walks up to the settee and stands beside Zoro. The two of them look down at Sanji who is pulling against the chains, willing them to give already, of course, they don’t. “That’s where you belong.”

On his knees, he is bound and humiliated. Is that really where he belongs?

There’s a laugh that vibrates within his chest before he throws his head to the back, laughing out loud until his neck hurts. Indeed, it is revolting, but what redeems it is the idea that it was Zoro who subjected him to all this, it wasn’t a choice of his free will. When the laughter morphs into a chuckle and then decrescendos to a mere hum, Sanji looks up into Zoro’s blank eyes, amusement in his own, “This is where I belong? Don’t kid yourself, asshole.” He starts, “You’re a cheat,” he says. “All the way in, and all the way out.”

Zoro’s eyebrows do a slight twitch.

“I can’t put up a decent fight because you’re starving me to death, making use of my epilepsy to flaunt about your false strength, but you and I both know that bragging about that to someone whom you’ve robbed of any means to defend himself is cheap.” He shrugs. “So don’t go thinking you’re better than me, in fact, you’re lower.” He smirks at his captor. “You’re the lowest, Zoro.”

It’s as though in a slow motion: Zoro’s right hand balls into a fist and launches to Sanji’s face. Although the latter sees it coming, he but smirks vaguely and lets it happen. Only, it comes to a sudden halt when it’s only a millimeter away from his cheek.

“Chickening out, how unusual!” Sanji chuckles, taking his eyes off of the fisted hand and back to Zoro’s fuming eyes.

“Mihawk,” the said man suddenly calls out, “prepare him for me.”

But Mihawk, wide-eyed and still, is momentarily only staring at Sanji that it makes the latter inwardly recoil.

“Miha!” Zoro’s voice calls louder this time, “do I have to repeat myself?”

The man, servant most likely, bows and apologizes, and then he goes about to follow the order. And as Sanji stiffens, readying himself for the ‘preparation,’ his eyes fall on Zoro’s wicked ones, ridiculing him silently. Mihawk pulls the service table to him, that’s behind Sanji so he can’t see what’s going on.

“I preferred you docile, although conversely, I don’t quite dislike this side of you either,” Zoro comments, “it’s more thrilling this way.”

Sanji hardens his gaze.

“Unfortunately for you,” he continues, “you’re not getting any treats.”

“I’d rather die than eat something I was fucked in the ass for.” He counters, “Obedience, gratitude? What are you, a kid? I cleaned myself and the floor earlier because I couldn’t stand the filth, not because I wanted to please you.” He huffs. “You’re so full of yourself,” he grits out, ignoring how enraged Zoro is looking at him. “If you want everything cleaned, why don’t you hire a servant?”

Zoro props his cheek on his knuckles with his elbow on the armrest; his eyes now look dull.

Novel hands, sickening to the touch, roam over his body. Darn, he had completely forgotten about Mihawk when he was rebuking Zoro. Now his breath hitches down his throat when those hands, although gloved, they start to sense along with his rim.

So that’s what Zoro meant by ‘prepare.’

A finger teases him before it’s inserted in, and Sanji squirms under the pull of the chains, detesting the feeling of being groped and prodded. Zoro then brings his foot and tramples on Sanji’s cock; the latter mewls at the rough treatment, and ends up whimpering when Zoro stomps harder. Mihawk inserts a second finger, crooks it within until it grazes something that immediately makes Sanji moan.

“Lowest, you say?” Zoro’s deep voice replaces the muffled noises, “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” He chided, coolly. “Just look at yourself, getting hard from two men molesting you. Is there any lower than that?”

As though deciphering some meaning, Mihawk pushes in a third finger now, twisting them inside to rub the prostate.

Sanji looks down at his own erection; his entire face flushes at sight. He feels the fingers stretching him ruthlessly, almost tearing his round flesh. A relief overwhelms him when those fingers are yanked out, but it’s short-lived as they get replaced by something much solid, colder, and bigger.

“Mihawk,” Zoro murmurs in a jaded tone, “some input is required for my slut here.”

“Very well, sir.” The young man speaks, “I have inserted a curved plug for extra sensation,” he says, now, he rotates the said plug and Sanji’s entire body trembles. “The curved shape of this plug is specifically designed to target the prostate gland, granted, the extra weight of the metal device also adds more sensation, stimulation can thus lead to trembling orgasms.”

“However,” Zoro swings his index, “the object of this is not to make you feel good, is it?”

Sanji shoots a nasty glare at the man, for generally toying with his body however he wants. He, then, hears soft rattling, as though someone is rummaging through something. Then Mihawk is lifting Sanji’s slippery cock, strokes it with his hand that feels like it’s covered with something liquid and slimy. Sanji guesses it’s lube. A steel loop comes into view in Mihawk’s other hand. He opens it and places it on the area where Sanji’s penis and balls meet, and then a spiral device is cupped on his cock. Sanji watches, awed and horrified, as Mihawk comes with padlock and puts it on through a thread that connects the ring and the cock cage, and locks it. He switches his attention to Sanji’s chest, brings the clamps and pegs them to each of Sanji’s nipples, and then he moves away, walks up to Zoro again and hands him the keys.

The hand that is not supporting the weight of his Zoro’s head lifts up and beckons Sanji to come closer, which the man does after he chances a fleeting glance at Zoro’s dead eyes. But the moment he shuffles, the thing plugged into his butt brushes against his P-gland, and Sanji stills, forces his eyes shut and tries to breathe through it. But he knows Zoro hates to wait, so he grits his teeth and crawls his way to Zoro. The latter takes his cock out from the unzipped fly. He looks at Sanji and then cards his fingers through the latter’s brown hair, gentle strokes providing false comfort. Sanji’s chin dips, he hates this –he loathes it, last time, he almost choked to death because Zoro pushed all the way to the back of his throat. Eventually, he swallows his pride and parts his lips, slowly taking the half-erect penis in his mouth.

Zoro excluded, Sanji never sucked a cock before. As a matter of fact, he never had his cock sucked. He has absolutely no recollection of how this is done. In retrospect, he did come across some gay videos when he was still discovering the world of stimulator through ion, and honestly, he never thought he’d be subjected to off a man.

“Diving straight in,” Zoro scoffs, his fingers still stroking Sanji’s scalp, “hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

It’s not even been a minute since Sanji started bobbing down and up on Zoro’s cock, taking it and then drawing back to the tip, sucking shallowly and then diving in again. Zoro is rock hard in his mouth.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Sanji smirks once he pulls back, lips swollen and wet, “getting like this from a slut sucking you off.”

The fingers on Sanji’s hair clench until he winces, and then he is pulled down, mouth on the cock covered in precum. “If you have time to chat, you should finish off properly.”

Sanji’s anxiety shoots to the ceiling because Zoro is thrusting into his mouth again, choking him.

“Mihawk.”

Moments later, Sanji starts feeling Mihawk playing with the plug inside him rubbing his prostate. He can’t help the moans that escape him and fan on the tip of Zoro’s cock in his mouth. His nipples are tugged at by the clamps and he genuinely wants some relief, but the ring on his cock is blocking him, denying him of a much-needed orgasm.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” Zoro chuckles darkly. “I’ll make you a deal, if you beg for my cock, I’ll unlock the cage.” Saying so, he pulls his cock out of Sanji’s mouth, giving him a chance to reply.

“An integrative bargaining, is it?” Sanji comments after spitting aside.

“No more unilateral actions,” Zoro confirms, “just say the magic word and you’ll find relief.”

“Are you joking?” Sanji chides, “Why would I beg for your dick when Mihawk here is doing a terrific job of making me feel good?” he asks, albeit rhetorical so Zoro remains silent, “you’re like a child, relying on brute force, couldn’t even make me hard in both times.”

This time, the punch does land on Sanji’s cheek. And instead of precum, he rolls his chin and spits blood, and then he looks up at Zoro. “See?” he reminds, “Brute.”

“You just had to have the last word, didn’t you?” Zoro grits out, now slowly lifting up to his feet. “Mihawk, leave.”

Said man bows and retreats from the room. The door creaks and closes shut.

Sanji, for some mysterious reason, he is not scared. He did screw with Zoro’s mind, provoking him like that, but it’s as he said, Zoro is exactly like a child, too self-conceited to see what’s really important. And he knows the man is going to punish him, but this is where it gets fun, Even though he will punish him, Zoro won’t make any threats, won’t even bring up Zoro.

Through the punishment, he will try to prove himself.

Childish, isn’t he?

Zoro aims the buttplug, yanks it out and throws it aside. Instead, he replaces it with his cock, pushing it in without any hesitation until Sanji falls over but the chains keep him up.

“I’ll show you,” Zoro promises, “you’re going to beg for it.”

Sanji is glad; he is so glad that Zoro can’t see his face from this position, that he can’t see his smirk.

Sanji, as Zoro promised, is on the verge of begging, he wants to come at least once, what with Zoro quitting thrusting to hit his prostate but grinding into it instead, rubbing it with such eagerness.

“Stop…” Sanji moans on the gasps. “Stop grinding into me!”

Zoro ignores the request completely as he engrosses himself in sucking Sanji’s neck. “The magic word, Sanji, come on.”

Zoro has lifted Sanji on his lap and is currently grinding into him, delicious squelches result from the action. Because Zoro already came before between Sanji’s thighs, he is dragging this on and enjoying himself.

Sanji’s entire body is hot and trembling. His cock is swelling, about to burst. A game or not, he needs relief, he needs it now. “I want…” he rasps breathlessly, “to... I want to cum already.”

Zoro brings his mouth to Sanji’s ear, “I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

The hot breath tingles down there, and Sanji arches a little off of Zoro, here, he can come at that, just, if the damn ring could go off. “Zoro, please” he whimpers, the tears he fought to keep held in, they fall down his cheeks. “Please help, I’m begging you. I’ll burst.”

Zoro lets out a sweet chuckle, one of his hand brings a tiny key to the cock cage, unlocks the padlock and takes it off. The ring comes off next, and then all the blood rushes to Sanji’s cock, the tingle and the dizziness. Sanji can finally come, but suddenly, Zoro thrusts into his captive and in the same time, he bites hard on Sanji’s already bruised shoulder.

Sanji’s vision goes white as him, at last, arrives. He tosses his head to the back, assured Zoro would shoulder his head. He enjoys him with a brittle shout.

Zoro takes his dick out and cums all over Sanji’s ass and the floor, coating it milky white. “Whether you realize it or not,” Zoro speaks, his hand coming to Sanji’s hair, combing it with his fingers. “You’re not invincible, Sanji,” he reveals, “remember that.”

Sanji swallows and lifts his head off of the other’s shoulder; he looks down at his penis, red and swollen, nonetheless relieved.

Zoro adjusts his clothes and stands up, aiming the table, “Although I’m partial to the thrill you give me,” he says, “I must say, docile or not, you definitely deserve a treat for begging.”

Sanji winces and his shoulders tense, he looks down, ashamed that he fell for his desires to even lift his head.

“There’s food, and oh look, a blanket.” Zoro gushed, “a bar of soap, too.”

Sanji isn’t feeling so triumphant.

“Which one do you want first?” Zoro asks, “Or maybe, you can have them all.” So out of the blue, he starts pouring the contents of the dishes onto the ground, kimchi stew, spaghetti, beef soup… all mingling on the already dirtied floor.

Sanji’s heart twists with that, all that food getting thrown when he himself is starving, so what is Zoro expecting him to lick it off the floor?

“Whoops,” Zoro intones, “it looks like I dirtied the floor. But it’s alright, I’m sure a person such as yourself, who is absolutely appalled by filth, would clean it up.”

Saying so, he tosses the blanket and the soap on the settee –thank God for that or Sanji would have to cover himself with something so disgusting– ups and leaves, taking the trolley table with him. Didn’t even unchain Sanji’s wrists, there’s no one to clean this mess.

“So fucking childish.” Sanji grits out.

 

 

 

A sample of a steel neck collar with nipple clamps [here](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB14mIiLXXXXXcZXFXXq6xXFXXX2/Dia-140mm-350g-male-stainless-steel-Neck-Slave-font-b-Collar-b-font-nipple-clamps-clips.jpg).

A sample of a single-tailed whip can be found [here](https://previews.123rf.com/images/schristina/schristina0905/schristina090500024/4926953-Black-Single-Tail-Whip-isolated-on-white-background--Stock-Photo.jpg).

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sanji never predicted the next time Mihawk would walk through that door to help him through his pain, his injuries and the mess Zoro created before finally vanishing without a word. The usual, Sanji thinks it’s the usual. So, when Mihawk removes Sanji’s chains, he hoists him up, and grunts as Sanji starts squirming. The bigger man assures Sanji that he only means well, and that he is here with orders from Zoro to clean him up and feed him. Sanji stills. He is partially relieved that he doesn’t have to endeavor to pry it out of him: the reason Mihawk is loyal to Zoro to a fault. He also marvels at the fact that he, at last, can eat some food. He sits still and lets Mihawk take the wheel from there.

 

For the next two days or so –Sanji isn’t really sure because time seems to pass really slowly in this place–Mihawk is the only one who shows up at the dungeon, either to clean Sanji up or to feed him. However, for both days, it doesn’t go peacefully because Mihawk, once he had Sanji returned to his spot and chained down, would put a silicone plug into Sanji’s entrance and leave it there until he had to clean him up again. And with all things considered, Sanji has a pretty decent idea about the reason why.

 

Today, Sanji’s entire body is feeling quite heavy for some reason, but that’s not today’s milestone. It makes it the third time Mihawk appears in Zoro’s stead, and Sanji is relieved, more or less. It’d have rattled his core if Zoro continued to starve him; although, that’s partially his own fault since he’s the one who has been acting pretty high about it. Mihawk is bringing food again and he helps Sanji eat, cleans his mouth, and straightens his hair. Sanji’s eyes are attentive. He knows Mihawk is going to be messing with him next, so he braces for it. Getting probed like that –he grits his teeth– he’d never get used to it. As expected, Mihawk works next on rotating the plug, massaging the inner gland in a way that makes it impossible for Sanji not to have any sort of reaction. His precum spurts and plops onto the enamel, slick and transparent.

Mihawk stops abruptly, standing up to double-check the chains. As he does that, Sanji’s eyes fall on the bulge growing in size under the man’s trousers. It horrifies him. He finds Mihawk looking back at him with dead eyes, so he quickly looks away, huffing. “You’re sick, all of you.”

 

This is torture. This is what torture really is. You can’t just fuck around with a man’s prostate gland like that and let him deal with it on his own while his hands are tied. But worse than that is that his entire body is in flames. He can even feel the metal on both of his wrists heating up, so he concludes that his fever is going up at an alarming rate.

The lights stream all over the room, almost blinding him if he did not hide his eyes under his upper arm.

“You don’t look so good.”

That voice. A deep voice that, to Sanji’s chagrin, has managed to plant terror into him; a voice that could make him tremble with only a whisper.

Sanji’s bleary eyes haven’t adapted yet to the lights, but he finds it less painful when he squints up at the white silhouette before him. “Zoro…”

“Tell me where it hurts.”

Sanji’s lids open wider, eyes analyzing the lab coat, the glasses, and the dark colored clothing underneath. He finally settles on Zoro’s eyes, and something in them makes him shrink in on himself.

“’Guess I’ll just have to help myself then.”

Sanji suddenly feels cold fingers feeling his forehead; the sensation is unbelievable for a moment.

“It seems you’re running a bit of a fever.” Zoro retrieves his hand back. “I guess the wounds on your back have became infected, nothing to worry about though. It’s because you haven’t been keeping a healthy diet that your body isn’t able to fight off viruses as it should.”

That’s a relief for you. Sanji is happy his insides aren’t rotting away or anything. But that doesn’t mean an infection isn’t just as bad. However, since Zoro caught it early, he’s sure the doctor, however psychotic he might be, won’t let him die from some mere infection. Well, since it’s been a few days since Sanji has seen his abductor, this reunion rather emphasizes everything that has happened lately, and Sanji is crushed with all sorts of feelings. When he looks up, his eyes are more focused now. He shudders.

Zoro is looking back at him, but there’s a wild smile creeping up his lips.

“What’s with you, psychotic doctor?” Sanji starts, brows meeting in a deep furrow on his clammy forehead. “Happy that I got sick?”

“No, I’m not.” Zoro denies, yet his smile is still plastered on his face.

“Then why are you smiling?”

Zoro’s eyes glint. “I was just thinking,” he starts. His smile turns predatory. “It’d be so damn hot to fuck you while you’re feverish.”

Sanji’s gulp echoes across the room.

Zoro then barks a laugh. “You don’t have to look so horrified,” he says, “I’m just sharing my fantasies with you. What’s wrong about that?”

Without adding anything else, Zoro unchains Sanji’s right wrist and leads him to the wall at the back.

“For certain reasons, I can’t take you out of this room.” Saying so, he crouches beside the other and lets out a prolonged sigh. Now he elaborates. “I know how you must be feeling right now but bear with it for a couple more days. For me, okay?” His hand darts to the other’s bruised neck, fondling the injuries he inflicted himself.

Sanji’s entire body is hot. He feels so hot that his skin might actually melt off. And his breathing, it’s just too erratic to sound normal. Maybe he is dying. Who gives a damn anymore? He is too groggy to even think straight. Fevers do that, right?

When he lifts himself up, shaky knees threaten to buckle beneath him. He chalks it up to his fevered delirium as he inches his unchained hand toward his throbbing heat after making sure Zoro was still watching him. He cups his own cock.

Zoro’s face morphs from that of a stoic medical professional tending to his patient, to a wild animal salivating at the sight of delicious prey.

Sanji doesn’t know what he is doing anymore. He blames his body. Yes, it’s easier like that. His treacherous body trembles every single time Zoro’s fingers touch him. Zoro made him like this. He desecrated him, and he taught him how to be easily debilitated. Sanji’s hand starts moving up and down his shaft, and moaning lustfully every time the plug brushes against his G-spot.

“No way,” Zoro gushes, repositioning himself properly on his haunches. “You’re actually going to give me that.” It’s a clear statement.

Sanji’s ‘fevered delirium’ gifts him with more crafty ideas. Although he doesn’t know why his body can’t obey him–won’t obey him, he ends up giving in to that side: the side he never knew he had in him.

His chained arm pulls against the metal, desperate to join its twin in stimulating the head of his cock. Sanji’s hip shifts a little to cause more friction down inside, and it comes out with amazing results. He feels his climax closing in on him so his body arches off the wall while his head rests on it. A few more strokes, and he cums all over his hand. He finally looks away from the ceiling and down at Zoro. His cheeks flushed and his eyes bleary, and although he is feverish and delirious, he doesn’t fail to see Zoro’s tongue snaking out across his upper lip as though he wanted to devour him right then. Sanji smirks to himself and uses that hand covered in cum to touch the scar on Zoro’s face, leaving a long trail of cum on the latter's scarred cheek.

It’s as though a button has been switched and Zoro darts forward, pushing Sanji against the wall, fervent and greedy. “You’re resilient,” he comments, “You’re so fucking resilient I’m lucky.”

Sanji feels his body being maneuvered so that he is facing the wall instead. Then, the plug is roughly pulled out of him and he can’t help but let out a gasp.

“You’re dripping away down here.” Saying so, Zoro nudges Sanji’s entrance with the crown of his cock. “This is going to feel so good, for the both of us of course.”

Without meaning to, Sanji pushes against the cock poking his anus. Because it’s so slippery, the other’s cock ends up sliding along Sanji’s rim. The latter moans his dissatisfaction shamelessly.

“Whoa,” Zoro chuckles deeply next to Sanji’s ear. “You’re so greedy for me today. What happened”–he uses his tongue to fondle Sanji’s hot earlobe–“did you miss me?”

Sanji’s back arches against the voice that sends sensual tremors all over his body. He looks at Zoro’s face, the latter’s jawline right in front of his mouth. He can’t resist it so he parts his teeth and bites the man’s jawline. The latter lets out a pleasurable sigh, his cock penetrating Sanji on its own accord.

Zoro chuckles again, his hands now immobilizing the other from his hip bones. He starts thrusting into Sanji, driven wilder by the wetness and heat with his head tossed to the back, and his eyes wide and unbelieving.

“This…” he mumbles through his moans. “What the…” He tries again as Zoro keeps on jerking his hips in a blur. “So amazing… feels so good…”

Zoro gives him more time to enjoy this feeling. Besides, Sanji, forever obstinate and self-righteous, coming undone so wantonly like a bitch in heat makes Zoro even hornier.

The sound of skin slapping skin, the breathless mumbles, and the wetness loosing up for Zoro is too overwhelming. He needs to have a rein on this. He has to.

“I also get something from this, J,” he suddenly informs after Sanji spurts his cum onto the tiled wall. “It’s tedious without the thrill.”

Sanji is too lost in this new sensation of fulfillment to pay attention to anything else really, so he gets quite the shock when Zoro grabs the chain still attached to his left hand and wraps it around his neck. The problem with the chain is that the more you pull against it, the tighter it becomes. So the minute Zoro wraps the chain on his neck, Sanji’s lungs start to feel suffocated. The more Zoro thrusts into him, the harder it is to breathe.

“Now that’s a charming sound,” Zoro comments after Sanji lets out choked off gasps. “See? This brings satisfaction for both of us.”

Instead of being horrified, Sanji’s penis twitches and becomes hard again. He feels Zoro’s hands touching his back gently, if his current mind is of any reliable source.

“Your back, E,” Zoro pants hotly, “it’s so sexy.” The gentle touches become merciless, clawing Sanji’s skin as though trying to tear his way in. Sanji mewls in pain again, and the mewl changes into a scream. Just like that, Zoro releases his load in one major spurt.

 

*******

 

Sanji’s been waking up and drifting off back to sleep again for some undetermined time now. He remembers seeing Mihawk around in the lab wing: tending to him, feeding him, keeping him hydrated, and keeping him clean. When his fever was finally brought down by Mihawk’s remarkable skills and dedication, Sanji finds that he’s been sleeping on a memory foam mattress with nothing else on but his boxers and a chain around his neck. That really shouldn’t be the biggest of his worries.

Mihawk is here again, taking his temperature and allowing his hands to wander all over Sanji’s body. After a while, Sanji finally can’t tolerate it as he clutches the man’s wrists and digs his nails into the skin, just to make his point.

“I think I’ve had my share of getting prodded by you.” He grits out, giving the hands a hefty shove. “You can stop now.”

Mihawk acknowledges his request for the time being, but something dangerous flashes in his eyes as he eyes his scratched wrists. “I understand,” he says, “I’ll be reporting back to young master then.”

Just as he stands from his crouch, Sanji calls for him. “Wait, young master?”

Mihawk eyes him with a vague look. “Roronoa Zoro is the young master.”

Like that didn’t reveal itself when Mihawk first called Zoro 'sire.' Sanji isn’t an idiot. He figured it out, and the only reason he’s asking now is to urge Mihawk to elaborate. Of course, he isn’t interested in Zoro’s social life, but whatever he can learn here today from this blank-faced guy could really help him out in ways he can’t even know yet.

“So what,” Sanji scoffs, “is this some ‘son of the owner turned evil’ saga, and you’re the butler keeping things in check?” he says, grating a little on the other’s nerves–if he has any–so he can spill what he knows.

“I’m not allowed to talk about anything to you,” Mihawk informs with impassive eyes.

“Humor me,” Sanji bites out, “I’m tucked between four walls, man. You and that asshole are the only things keeping me occupied–and not in a fun way, if you catch my drift.” He winks at the man.

Mihawk cocks his head at Sanji, making him fidget a little under the piercing glare. “It’s no secret so it couldn’t possibly be important,” he tells him. “Zoro inherited this mansion from his parents who died in a car accident three years ago. My master was studying medicine abroad at that time before he came back and set up shop here, preferring to have his own clinic,” he says with a premature smirk. “The mansion consists of three floors: the first one, which is the one at the very top, is my master’s personal suite, if you will; the second one is the clinic; and the third, which was built underground, is the dungeon, where you currently are.”

Sanji processes the information with a thoughtful expression.

“That’ll be all for today,” Mihawk intones, “I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Sanji calls out again, “My friend. When can I see my friend again?”

“That is not for me to decide,” Mihawk tells him in monotone.

“Then go tell Zoro for me.” Sanji’s eyes quiver as he looks up at the butler. “Tell him that I requested this. Please.”

He studies the captive for a moment before he walks away, making his way to the door. Sanji’s eyes are scrutinizing the retreating figure. As soon as Mihawk leaves the lab, Sanji examines the length of the chain on his neck and he finds that it reaches the bottom left corner of the room, deeply inserted into the wall. Someone must have been crafting ideas, architecting ways to entomb him in this sickening room.

So this dungeon is the basement of the clinic, which means there’s some way out. Zoro and his minions walk in and out freely so that probably entails an elevator, or a staircase if Sanji is lucky. And Luffy is in the room just down the hall, assuming that he is still near the room he had been at when he was first brought here. The main reason Sanji asked to see his friend is just so he is sure he’s in one piece for when he comes to save him.

 

He only realizes that he’s nodded off when he jerks awake, sits up and there they are: Luffy and the butler guy, Mihawk. They are standing on the right side of the red settee with Zoro slumped on it, leaning forward with elbows on knees, a sneer cramping his lips.

Sanji shoots towards his friend, but the backlash from the chain pulling taut against his neck sends him sprawling backward onto the mattress with a gasped grunt.

“Easy there, tiger,” Zoro drawls. “You’ll hurt your throat.”

Sanji grimaces when his throat throbs from that impact. He uprights himself and pushes down the instinct to bolt toward Luffy, instead taking a moment to eye his friend. And then he sees his blindfolded eyes, and something like extreme relief washes over him. Other than that, Luffy seems fit as a fiddle– scared, and trembling with fear, but he’ll worry about his emotional trauma when they get out of this place, _alive_. He fixates Zoro with a cold glare now.

“When I said I wanted to see him,” he starts, “this is not what I had in mind.”

Zoro tilts his head and waves it in a long, slow shake. “True,” he comments, “but you’re forgetting something.”

Sanji’s eyes narrow at the other.

Zoro latches onto the chain around Sanji’s neck and tugs, pulling his captive along. The settee is placed just at the rim of the mattress, and it isn’t all too hard for Sanji to guess the reason why as his captor seats himself atop its cushions and drags Sanji down between his parted legs. Zoro brings Sanji’s nose to his, and Sanji has to sit on his knees and hands to keep the position.

“You said you wanted to see your friend. Although it’s hectic upstairs, I still brought him to you, and what do I get in return?” He taps Sanji’s cheek in light slaps. “You… wicked little shit,” he bellows, “You can’t even thank me for my efforts.”

Without his consent, Sanji’s hands clandestinely take Zoro’s left one that’s still pressing the chain down, and he kisses it. “I’m very grateful to you. Thank you so much for bringing my friend to me. I can’t believe what a merciful man you are towards someone so ungrateful like me.”

Zoro looks taken aback for a fragment of a second before he smirks. “That’s more like it,” he chirps. “Now you can have that friend reunion you wanted with him, but make it quick.”

Sanji nods to the man and faces his friend. “Lu?”

Luffy, dressed in white shorts and plain T, stiffens. “Sanji, is that really you?”

Sanji almost breaks at his incredulous tone; he must have thought Sanji was dead all this time. “Yea, yea,” he assures him with a warm smile. “Are you injured? They don’t hurt you, do they?”

Luffy shakes his head fervently. “And your epilepsy,” he says, “your head took quite the trauma last time I saw you.”

“I’m okay,” he says before pausing. Taking in what he’d just said, Sanji furrowed his brow in thought. “Actually, I haven’t had a seizure in a while now.”

“That’s”–Zoro perks up–“because I healed it.” He lifts himself up, sidesteps the mattress, then flops down beside Sanji and lets out a sigh. “We can do that entire explanation thing later,” he says with a slight eye-roll. “Now...” He ghosts his hands over Sanji’s back. The bruises are healing beautifully. “Looking at you guys talk, I suddenly feel like I want to be part of this.”

Sanji, for the sake of his friend and the daunting thought that he might get beheaded in front of his eyes, lets Zoro do as he pleases with him.

“You see, Luffy, your friend and I are very close now,” he starts, smirking cheekily at Sanji, whose eyes are widening in shock. “Umm no, that’s not it.” He shakes his head. “We’re intimate now. Yea, that about covers it.”

“Sanji.” Luffy clears his throat nervously. “What’s he on about?”

“Nothing,” Sanji provides hastily. “It’s a crazy man’s talk.”

Zoro’s hand clutches Sanji’s hair from the back, pulls him so his lips are on Sanji’s ear. “I can play this game,” he proclaims. “If I remembered correctly, Luffy,” he tells the young man, “you had a girlfriend, right?”

Both friends tense.

Zoro tightens his grip on Sanji hair. “What? You didn’t expect me to run a little background on my pets?” he jokes. “Say, you must have had sex with her many times. I’m sure it felt great, and I don’t want to hear the story, but what about your childhood friend here.”

“What’ you doing?” Sanji hisses.

Zoro jerks his head to silence him. “I’m talking now, love, don’t interrupt.” He scoffs, “So I was saying, ever seen your friend in some compromising position before?”

“What are you talking about you sick bastard!” Luffy roars. “What did you do to Nami? Where’s she?”

Sanji is proud of his friend’s fighting spirit.

“Don’t be so difficult, Luffy.” He chuckles, “I asked you a question, stop whining.”

“Why would I listen to you?” he bawls, tears falling like a torrent.

Zoro lets out a little sigh and pulls Sanji’s ear to his mouth again. “Let’s play a game, shall we?” he whispers into his captive’s ear. “Every time he refuses to answer a question, you’ll take the brunt.”

Sanji shakes his head because he knows how dangerous and degrading the man’s games are. “No, no,” he refuses doggedly, still in a whisper. “You can’t. No, you can’t.”

Zoro considers it through a thoughtful silence and then his lips curl up in a wicked smirk. “I sort of think I can.” Saying so, he looks at Luffy again. “So Luffy, ever seen your friend having sex before?”

Luffy scrunches his face up despite the blindfold hiding his eyes. “What kind of sick question is that?”

Zoro mumbles a ‘one’ before he plants himself behind Sanji and pushes him down, so they’re reclining on their sides. “Say, Luffy, ever heard your friend moan like a whore?”

“You’re sick.” Luffy breathes out, chiding. “You need to get the hell lobotomized out of you!”

Zoro chuckles on a mumbled ‘two’ before he unzips his fly and takes out his cock.

“Lu, just ans–” Sanji almost finishes his sentence, but Zoro’s hand cups his mouth to stop him.

“No cheating,” he whispers into Sanji’s ear.

“What’ you doing to my friend?” he rebukes, tensing in Mihawk’s hands.

“I have another question for you, Luffy.” Zoro muses, a hand stroking Sanji’s hipbone. “Ever seen your friend get fucked balls deep?”

“Sanji!” Luffy calls out suddenly. “What’s he been doing to you? Don’t fall for his tricks; we’ll get out of here, okay. Just get it together! You hear me?”

Sanji’s eyelids flutter before he looks down, letting the inevitable happen.

“He’s just screwed you over, your childhood friend.” Zoro lets out a hearty laugh, now lifting Sanji’s leg from the thigh so he can insert his cock in.

“Zoro…” Sanji sees no other way out of this but resorting to the thing he absolutely despises. “Please, Zoro. Not like this, I’ll do anything for you, just not this.”

“You’re such a fascinating creature, Sanji.” Zoro snorts. “You always seem to think that this is about what you want or what makes you feel good, but it’s not. How many times do I have to say it?”

Luffy is still grumbling about his friend’s wellbeing, not really having an ounce of an idea about what’s really going on.

Sanji clutches at the mattress, his eyes shutting too forcefully. “Zoro, I’m begging you,” he pleads croakily. “Don’t do this to me. Zoro please, I’ll die. I’ll seriously go out of my mind if you do this.”

Zoro nudges the head of his dick against that entrance. “Umm, now I’m having second thoughts.”

Sanji’s stomach churns with the sudden flicker of hope. “Anything, Zoro, anything you want. I promise, just not this.”

“You’re pretty smart; I give you that.” Zoro drones. “Making it sound like it's about what I want when you and I both know that’s not the case. Wow. But you know what, this is what I want.” Saying so, he forwards his hips and pushes into Sanji. The latter slaps a hand over his own mouth to keep from letting out any sounds, but he fails eventually when Zoro snaps his hips so quickly, stretching him wide, spreading his flesh. “But I still love it when you beg.”

“J...” Luffy croaks. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I’m… fine.” Sanji rasps in between stifled moans and low whimpers. “Don’t… worry.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Sanji.” Zoro sing-songs, joyfully. “Hey, Luffy,” he calls after pausing, and Sanji beside him is breathing so hard by now. “Keep your mouth shut for a second. If you distract me again, I’ll snap, and believe me, you won’t like me if I snap.”

“Why,” Luffy grouses. “What are you planning to do to him?”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Zoro grouses. “Mihawk, if he speaks again, snap his neck.”

Luffy immediately stills.

“Lu,” Sanji rasps out. “Just do what he says, I’m begging you.”

Said man lets out a tiny sob and Sanji’s hands are kind of busy so he can’t kiss his pain away. He is sorry for his friend, though, that he is here, witnessing what’s being done to him.

“Jeez, Sanji, you’re no fun anymore.” Zoro grumbles, uninterestedly. “Begging everyone for everything”

“Just get it over with, you bastard.” Sanji’s voice is flat.

Zoro shifts their position so that Sanji is facing the mattress and his ass in the air for Zoro to pound. And Zoro falls horribly silent after that. He starts thrusting and doesn’t complain when Sanji buries his mouth in the mattress. Luffy’s sobs increase because, obviously, he’s figured it out, at long last. Zoro is silent, but the force brought with every one of his thrusts is too robust for Sanji’s delicate body to handle that his anus starts to drip blood down his thighs, but Zoro doesn’t even stop for a breather.

Sanji finally finds himself begging for some mercy. “S-slower… Zoro…” he whimpers into the mattress. “You’ll… break me…”

“I’m just getting it over with,” Zoro counters, acidly.

Sanji has no retort ready up his sleeve, and the pain keeps him hushed for the moment. This sick man will always try to twist his words to what fits his mood, and Sanji will always end up hurt. This is Zoro’s place, everything will go the way the man wants it to.

The clapping of the wet skins, the low moans and whimpers, and the grunts Zoro makes every time Sanji clenches around him horrifies Luffy. The sounds and the scene of Zoro fucking Sanji’s ass enchant Mihawk’s cock, and it is soon springing up ready for action too.

“St… Zoro…” Sanji sobs into the mattress now. The pain, the throb in his lower body is too overwhelming by now, and he fears the numbness that will follow. The stench of copper in the back of his nose is the evident telltale of the blood resulted from his anus getting stretched by sheer force. “You’re… breaking me… Zoro… it hurts…”

Zoro bellows. “Shut the hell up already!” he shouts, now clenching his fist in Sanji’s hair, yanking it up until Sanji grunts from the sudden and jarring wrench of his muscles. “You’re so annoying, talking and talking. I just want to have some quiet time. Is that so fucking much to ask!”

Sanji’s body stills. Zoro always barks orders, tells him to get on his knees or to suck him off… he’s never, however, ordered Sanji for something so simple as to stop talking. And he’s certainly never yelled it. So, he knows. He knows Zoro isn’t bluffing, and can break his neck just because he doesn’t like the constant talking. “Alright,” he says breathlessly, trying to appease the other’s anger because Zoro’s unpredictable actions cost him dear. “Okay, Zoro, okay”–he swallows his drool–“do whatever you want.”

Zoro is still panting after his rant, but soon he leans his forehead on Sanji’s hair, closing his eyes. “Just… don’t talk, okay?”

Sanji nods quickly.

Zoro resumes his merciless, clumsy, lust-laden pistons, bringing Sanji over the verge as the man eventually closes his eyes and surrenders to complete darkness. Zoro still fucks him in the ass, arms taut on either side of Sanji’s shoulders and his hips snapping as he thrusts into the mess of precum and blood. And yet, he still doesn’t cum.

“Sire,” Mihawk speaks for the first time, his voice breaking the dreadful silence heavy with Luffy’s low sobs and Zoro’s loud pants. “He requires medical attention.”

“Get out,” Zoro orders. “Take Luffy to his room; you leave too.”

Mihawk bows his head slightly and drags a devastated Luffy by the elbow. The two walk out of the room, and the door closes.

Now that he is wrapped in some much-needed privacy with his unconscious captive, Zoro finally lets his emotions take hold of him. He draws his cock out from the mess he created, but a long string of red blood and white cum still wants to connect him to the twitching and torn hole. He chuckles. This is his doing–this power he has in his hands, where he can break or save someone. He can’t believe he’s just come to this room after a successful brain surgery, and now he failed this. He can’t say it’s on purpose, but he wonders if it isn’t.

Sanji is lying limply beneath him, lax hands by his sides and his face lying on his cheek. His hair is a mess, his back is a mess, and heck, his ass is a messier mess.

Zoro moans.

He couldn’t come before because he didn’t want it to happen, but now, he can finally re-live something he used to find pleasure in, something Sanji taught him.

He flips Sanji on his back, taps at his cheek until Sanji groans and gasps awake. He hushes him when Sanji flails uncoordinatedly. “Shh,” he says atop him, and at the peering figure. Sanji tenses and tries to wiggle his way away, but Zoro holds him down. “Listen. Hey listen, there’s a 4-5-inch lesion in your canal, and you need surgery.”

Sanji frowns at him.

Zoro bites his bottom lip and pushes his fingers through Sanji’s hair; then he ducks down to his ear. His other hand moves downwards. “You hear that?”

Sanji listens in, and then he hears it, the sound of Zoro’s hand rubbing the cock that has assaulted him.

“You hear it?” He breathes out shakily, grunting in between. “That’s the sound of my wet cock, Sanji. It’s so wet for you,” he moans. “Fuck, I’m so hard again, so hard and wet.”

The wet clapping echoes and Sanji gulps.

“Sanji,” Zoro moans, rests his forehead on the other’s cheek.

Sanji, as though hypnotized, pushes Zoro off him gently until he is on four again with Zoro sitting on the mattress. Then he crawls his way to Zoro’s cock, rubs his face on it before he takes it between his plump lips.

Zoro groans. “Oh yea…” he moans. “You wanna taste it?”

Sanji plunges on the cock, taking it deeper. His ass in the air with all the sticky fluids running down his inner thighs and tainting the white mattress red. He flaps his tongue on the head of the cock before sweeping it in his mouth again.

Zoro keens, “Oh fuck. Take it deeper.”

Sanji sucks on the cock with fervor, moans on its crown because it’s big and thick, and his jaw is slowly feeling the strain.

Zoro plays with Sanji’s hair. “You like how I taste, don’t you? I’m so hard for you,” he moans. “Slap it on your face, J.”

Sanji ends the sucking with a wet plop, and he taps the cock on his lips. He glances up and finds Zoro eating him up with those dangerous eyes. And then he brings his fingers to brush Sanji’s hair in false gentleness.

“Eyes so cold,” he remarks as Sanji ghosts lips on the hard cock. “Eyes that look like that only for me; a hatred that is harbored for me, raw lust and a body of beauty given only to me, just me.” He gives a triumphant smirk. “Do you remember last time I came here?”

Sanji licks the precum but doesn’t look away from Zoro’s eyes.

“We didn’t just fuck,” he says, “didn’t just have sex.”

Sanji pulls away from the cock altogether so he can sit up, precum rolling down his chin.

Zoro pins the other to the mattress to mount him. Wordlessly, Sanji folds his knees to his chest and parts them for Zoro who brings his cock to Sanji’s rim, lining it against the abused entrance.

“Oh Sanji, you were feverish, so you probably don’t remember,” he says, “but we made love.” Saying so, he pushes his cock into Sanji and watches with delight how Sanji’s phlegmatic face scrunch and grimace in pain. Zoro moans so deeply. “And you were fucking amazing.”

Zoro is thrusting into his captive with less force but more technique. He does it very slowly, and he even grinds into Sanji every time the latter whimpers. He shifts so that he is peering down at Sanji with his arms braced on both sides of his face.

“Open your eyes, Sanji,” Zoro breathes out. “Look at me.”

Sanji parts his eyelids, and his bleary eyes look up at Zoro’s sharp ones as though waking up from a trance. At the eye-contact, something in Sanji somersaults and his cock gets harder despite the incapacitating pain radiating from his backside. He brings his hands each to the ones braced next to each side of his face, and he clasps them around Zoro’s wrists. He gradually loosens his pressed lips and allows his moans to do as they want.

Zoro’s delighted face glints and he picks up his pace and grinds harder against Sanji’s prostate. Sanji, lying beneath the man and helpless, makes soft moans that soon morph into pleasurable whimpers.

“Sanji you were made for me.” Zoro groans, his thrusts rocking Sanji’s body. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you were made for me.”

Sanji lets out an enchanting scream when his cum shoots out of his cock and coats his chest. However, Zoro doesn’t stop because the after-twitching teases his own cock, and he quickens his pace. Beneath him, Sanji is sobbing and whimpering, but uttering no word of complaint. It all but excites Zoro even more, and he doesn’t know how much more he can do. How long before Sanji finally cracks under strain beneath him, and does he want to test it out?

He looks very closely at Sanji’s lips as they quiver; he watches as those lips get chewed on by Sanji’s teeth, how they part and press on one another. Soon enough, Zoro is leaning down, pressing his lips on Sanji’s. And at the mere contact, he spurts his cum, filling Sanji’s insides. Zoro pulls away from the press of their lips. His eyes roaming over Sanji’s face and the lines crossing over it in a vague expression, and he doesn’t understand it. He can’t.

The blond brings his hands to his face to hide it–whatever it is, and he cries.

Zoro watches intently how tremors rack Sanji’s body as he cries and snivels like a child, and he brushes his hair from his clammy forehead when beads of sweat roll down Sanji’s forehead. His hand absorbs the heat coming off of Sanji’s skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

 

 

All of that happened almost four days ago. Now, Sanji has completely healed from his injuries, and no new injuries have been inflicted on him. Mihawk is the one who has been tending to him all this time. Zoro came by only once to check on Sanji’s wound before he deemed it cured. He prescribed more bed rest for him, and then vanished without a word. Whether because he feels remorse or not, Sanji isn’t going to debate it–when it comes to that psycho, things like guilt get sieved out. The only thing that’s probably been keeping him from harassing Sanji lately is his work upstairs. Today, Sanji is going to kick off his escape plan to their freedom.

 

He is still on the mattress, but these days Mihawk chains both his wrists, not his neck.

It would have worried him tremendously if it mattered, but it doesn’t. And what the bigger man is clueless about is that, besides leaving the lights on, leaving a first aid box lying around someone who has been subjected to all sorts of torture your brain can conjure up is, indeed, a very stupid mistake to make.

Using his foot, Sanji drags the small white box to him and knocks it over with his foot, making the contents inside fall out. He uses his big and index toes to pick out a 90 millimeter c-shaped needle. He manages to pick it up despite the slippery skin sweating due to the exertion his body hasn’t gone through since the day he was locked in here. He bows his head to take the needle between his lips now, determined to pick the damn keyhole of the chains binding his wrists.

Although he is failing tremendously, he keeps on trying, again and again, fed up with the fact that his glenoids are sore to the core. Besides, with all these triggers–from malnutrition to stress, to being threatened every single day–why isn’t he seizing already? He puts all his motions on hold to think about this for a precious moment, why hasn’t he seized lately?

 

He resumes picking the lock, and in unpredicted, glorious moment, he hears the muffled click of the lock and then it comes undone. He frees his hand and takes the needle from his lips to try to open the other. It’s quicker with five digits, so it’s unlocked in a few seconds.

With the needle in hand, he scrambles onto legs that almost buckle under him at the surge of adrenaline. He won’t think. He won’t employ strategies or connect dots. This time, he’s going to act. He shoots to the door and elates when it opens. He finds that he is still in the same hallway, so he trudges stealthily towards the room of his friend, inwardly praying he didn’t get moved from it to some other ward. He finally reaches the door and uses the needle to open it. He peeks inside and finds Luffy perched on a brown chesterfield, wearing another pair of shorts and plain T. He dashes to him, and Luffy’s expression lightens upon seeing him. He springs up with open arms, and Sanji hugs him.

“We need to leave now,” he urges, “before they find out we’re missing.”

Luffy nods affirmatively, picks out a long bathrobe and flings it to Sanji, who wears it over his boxers. “Let’s get outta this hellhole.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

The rush of the adrenaline is making his limbs jerky like an addict’s short of his drug of choice as he and Luffy scuttle on tiptoes between the labyrinths of hallways. Sanji has made sure he locked Luffy’s door before embarking on the stealth run. And as they crouch behind a wall, peaking at what resides behind it, he can see his friend from the corner of his eyes examining him with such an intensity that he’d picked up on without actually having to see him. He knows what’s spinning in that observant head of Luffy’s. Well, he was there when that monster fucked him unconscious and he heard the noises he made. Sanji can’t really tell how much of that has really traumatized his friend the most but he is betting on the whole frigging part. But right now they don’t have time for the side glances and the worry eyes, they’ve taken a bold decision and if they’re found out, it’s not going to be pretty.

There’s a woman in a white lab coat, Hancock. Sanji still remembers the bitch. She is talking with someone on a flip phone, and she seems too immersed in the conversation she doesn’t notice the two childhood friends behind the wall.

“We gotta find those stairs, J.” Luffy urges fervently, owlish eyes bugging out.

“Stairs?” he echoes.

“You were too out of it, so you don’t remember,” he explains, pupils never leaving the woman’s back. “When they brought us here, they led us down some stairs; we were blindfolded, so we never knew where we were headed.”

“By ‘we’ you mean you and Nami,” Sanji prompts. “Right?”

“You were hauled downstairs by someone too,” He steals a quick glance at him before ushering at the woman with his head. “Do we rip her a new one or look for another way?”

Sanji looks back at Hancock. “We don’t wanna attract attention,” he tells him. “Zoro is usually busy at this time of the day, and Dracule must be getting ready to come down to my room. He’ll find I’m not there, and we’ll get caught up in stuff we don’t want,” he says. “Let’s look for another way.”

Luffy’s breath hitches slightly, and Sanji hears it.

“What is it?” he demands.

“So that bastard has been coming to your room every day?” He staggers, his voice a crack. “You mean to tell me you’ve been enduring the same thing ever since we were brought here?”

Sanji presses his lips curtly before he holds his friend’s arm by the elbow. “We don’t have time for this,” He enunciates. “Did you hear any words I just said? The butler must be heading to my room by now.”

The weirdest thing about this place, beside the dungeon and locking people in to revel in their pain, there are no CCTV cameras around, not even one, which is odd considering that many things could go wrong. Just take their breakout for example. Yet Zoro never thought it up this through. Makes you wonder if it’s a blunder or Zoro planned it out to be like this from the get-go. But as far as Sanji is concerned, he just wants a way out, and no cameras mean no one is watching. No one is watching means he and his friend can run for it without having to worry about any of Zoro’s men breathing down their neck.

Luffy suddenly halts dead mid-step and Sanji bumps into his back; he looks where the other is looking and finds an EXIT neon sign mounted on a white-wooded door.

“That’s got to be it.” Luffy muttered with his legs already carrying him towards the direction of the door.

Sanji rejoices for a second because that’s the freaking door to their freedom. He frowns; something isn’t right. Something is definitely not right about all this because why would Zoro put a ‘freedom’ sign on that door that would attract any runaway like a bacon, unless it’s a…

“Luffy, wait!” With panic tilting his voice, he called out for his friend whose hand is on the knob. “Don’t open that door!”

But Luffy’s hand is already twisting the knob and perking his ears up at the slow creak of the door in the somehow poignant silence. Sanji can’t move away from his spot, too scared and too anxious. His entire body is tense, ready for what might come. Luffy’s eyes follow what’s inside because Sanji can’t see it from his angle, and he watches with a scowl how his friend’s face lightens up with a wide smile. Maybe Sanji was wrong after all; maybe that door wasn’t a trap to ensnare them. But his relief was curtailed when this young man ducked out from the door, dimples pronounced and pupils so dark. Now he understands why Luffy smiled so affectionately like that; it’s because the young man is their friend Law, the young man who went back with Frank to get help but was never heard from after. Until now it seems.

“Law!” Luffy throws himself into the taller man’s arms, tears welling up and soon rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re alive! I’m so happy!”

The way Law cups the back of his head in false reassurance is too unsettling for Sanji not to consider, and then he eyes Law casual, clean clothes and clean hair. He doesn’t know if being sealed away in that room enhanced his ability to sniff out the evil but a part of him knows Law isn’t what he seems to be. He doesn’t know how he knows that or how he even concluded to that, he just knows it in his bones. He quirks a smile, trying to play Law into believing he was coming up to him for the same thing Luffy went for, but when he reaches them, he shoves Law off and pulls a vexed Luffy through that door, clambers frantically up the stairs he must have talked about earlier.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” he berates, “why did you do that! That’s Law! He’s alive and kicking,” he squirms to yank his hand from Sanji’s. “We should go back and get him!”

Sanji doesn’t stop in his track as he finally finds another door and shoots through it with his friend half scurrying half dragged. The scent of bleach collides with their noses, especially Sanji’s that has scented nothing lately but the coppery twinge of his blood and bitter smell of ejaculate. This side of this mansion, house, whatever it is, is pumping with life. There are more people in this place that looks like the interior of some treatment center, normal citizens who don’t seem interested in them and aren’t crouching with machetes or bows to hurt them. Luffy is silent too as he inspects the place, but then he feels Sanji walking again, still dragging him. Sanji knows Law will trail them down, and he doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to be found by him. He takes the left turn and comes to a stop, Luffy bouncing back and forth with the impact. He peers up at his friend with reproach, but his words are lost from him when he sees the pallor of Sanji’s face turning dangerously paler. His eyes and lips parting impossibly wide, and if Luffy didn’t know better, he’d have thought that was terror in his eyes. When he looks at what he is looking at, he is certain that that’s terror in Sanji’s eyes.

Roronoa Zoro, the man he saw beating his friend to a pulp back in the woods and get an erection from Sanji’s seizure is standing right in front of them in an open lab coat and two file folders in a hand, the other is in his pocket. He is cocking his head at their clothing with his brows crinkling.

The two friends freeze in the same spot, unable to move or even twitch.

Luffy, for a brief moment, hears his friend’s breathing slowly getting out of control and his grip on his arm tightens so much he _almost_ winces; the fact that he can’t move his eyes from Zoro aborts it.

Zoro takes a step towards them and the friends flinch but do not budge. When he is finally standing a stride-length away, he parts his lips to talk. Luffy is sure that his friend is following every movement with intensity shouting from every fiber in him.

“Who are you?” Zoro asked, confusion whirling in his eyes. “Are you patients at this clinic?”

Sanji’s breathing is a joke by now, and Luffy wonders if his lungs are about to explode.

Zoro shifts on his feet. “I’m sorry, but you don’t look alright,” he tells Sanji, a crease building over one of his brows as he furrows it. “If you want, you can check yourself in?”

They hear the sudden rumbling of a distant door shutting, several pairs of feet stomping and screeching on the tiled floor before they hear ‘we need to find them’ gritted out in a finite order. Luffy faces the source of the noise knowing Sanji can’t _–won’t_ take his eyes off Zoro’s for whatever it is because the biggest threat is standing in the flesh right before him. He sees Law coming towards them, and he yelps with tears in his eyes; for the first time, he can see the wickedness in Law’s eyes who’s tracking them like a predator.

Zoro looks away from Sanji and at the one coming at them, and he lifts a hand to stop Law probably but sees from the corner of his eyes how Sanji flinches, so he stills.

“What’s going on here?” he demands once Law is standing before them. “What’s all this about?”

“Zoro…” Sanji’s voice croaks out while his eyes tremble upon a tiny smidgen of something dry on the floor. He guesses it’s plaster; he has no idea why it’s on the floor though, not that it matters, right? Because… because Zoro is standing right in front of him, elatedness is taking precedence over the daunting air he usually emanates whenever he is standing above Sanji, inflicting pain or employing torture on him. “You fucking bastard,” he grits out, “stop pretending!”

Zoro’s confusion deepens as he takes his hand out of his pocket and straightens up a little, “Look, there’s no need for you to get upset at me for no apparent reason. I’m not trying to harm you. Whatever happened with my staff member over there, you can trust me when I say I have no idea what’s going on here.”

Sanji shakes his head, his legs taking him rearward to the wall behind. “No…” he whines disbelievingly, “this can’t be…” Was it all a dream? Was it all just a bad dream and now he has finally woken up and has to find his way out of it, or just what, exactly? “This isn’t happening…”

“Sir?” Zoro approaches him a little but Luffy steps in between them.

“Keep your filthy hands off my friend, you monster.” He bites out like a wounded animal.

“Young man,” Zoro lifts placating hands, folders going up as well. “I mean him no harm.” He says, “I’m a doctor here, so maybe I can help. He doesn’t seem alright.”

Just then, Sanji clutches at his head from both sides and lets out a rumbling scream that echoes off in the hall and startles everyone within earshot, including Zoro and Luffy who are the nearest. Luffy swivels around and fixates his friend with a terrified gaze, coerced into silence as Sanji slides down to his knees, hands still clutching at his head as he lets out broken wails now. Luffy almost looks over the glaring inconstancy of his friend falling to his knees and shouting himself hoarse in favor of ripping into Zoro for the time he witnessed him maltreating his friend and for all the times he didn’t but still knows happened. But the broken wailing is slowly morphing into snivels, and Luffy can’t take it anymore, but just as he finally decides on bringing his friend to his chest to shower him with some warmth, Zoro beats him to it. He watches with awe how Zoro wraps his arms around Sanji and whispers soft reassurances into his ear.

 

“Nebula!”

Luffy faces the source of the shout and finds the woman they saw downstairs dashing towards them. Then he hears it, the words uttered, irrevocable and derogatory in their brunt. He cannot snatch them, alter them or change them after they land harshly on Sanji’s ears.

“Were you trying to run away from me, J?” the smoky voice asks, acidly. “You fucking whore, you never learn.”

Luffy quickly reels his head towards Zoro, who is still hugging Sanji, speaking those words into his ear. And the most unbelievable thing is… Sanji stills completely between those caging arms.

“Don’t touch him,” Luffy clenches his small fists. Then he is a little surprised when Law comes up behind him and holds him from both shoulders. “What’ you doing? Let go!”

Zoro lets out a bitter sigh after eyeing the patients peering at them from every side. “They’re making a scene,” he says, gesturing to the two friends. “Let’s take them back downstairs first,” he glowers at his secretary and Law with eyes that send them to a cold sweat. “I’ll deal with all of you later.”

 

***

 

The two childhood friends are shepherded back downstairs by Law and Zoro to the same hole they finally managed to crawl out of. Hancock has excused herself before disappearing into another room and leaving the two men to their fun. Luffy is momentarily threshing under the pressure Law is applying on his shoulders as he clasps him tight. When he glances over at his friend, he finds Zoro guiding him, pushing him by the neck and Sanji’s uncooperative body backlashes every single rough time. They walk them through the door Law came out from and towards another under Zoro’s order and watchful eyes.

“J,” Zoro coaxes after they stop by that foreign door. “Hey,” he taps Sanji’s cheek to ground him, “snap out of it.”

Sanji’s glossy pupils roll and finally land on Zoro’s, and at the sight of evil eyes looking back at him, something in Sanji’s awakes to full alertness. He hisses his way to consciousness and hardens his glare at the man.

Zoro smiles wickedly. “That’s more like it.”

“Law, what the hell are you doing?” Luffy reproaches, “Why are you doing this?”

Zoro and Sanji look to the other two’s direction, and Zoro chirps. “Oh, let me introduce you” he starts, “that’s Traflgar Law, a ‘trainee’ signed under my care.” He says, now wrapping an arm around Sanji’s neck and relishing the sensation of his shudder coursing nonstop. “He’s been working here for two years now.”

Luffy pales and his big eyes glare at the friend who betrayed them. “What’s the meaning of this!”

“Oh, and he’s even been assigned to a job too,” Zoro gushes on, ushering to the foreign door.

Law opens it at the gestured order, and keeps his grip strong on Luffy’s forearm.

“Let’s take a look inside, shall we?” Zoro suggests with an odd air of glee about him.

Again, merry moods indicate trouble.

Law and Luffy step into the room first with Zoro and Sanji following. Sanji, in next to no time, faints to the back and flops on Zoro’s chest, the man who proves to have a little grace in him as he holds Sanji up by the shoulders with his two hands. Luffy is soon doubling over and retching onto the cemented floor.

Inside the room, they find Nami’s collapsed body hung on meat-hooks, covered in wounds, scratches and belt welts. Cascaded by fresh and dry blood. The entire room smells of death, and no amount of bleach can mask that.

“Get a grip,” Zoro coaches, lifting Sanji up. “He’s still alive,” He provides, and added. “I think.”

Just then, Mihawk walks into the room and takes hold of Luffy as Law is ushered to step aside by Zoro himself. The order, though, doesn’t stop there. Law walks up to where Nami’s body is mounted, and he unhooks her from the wall and drops her down. They all watch as the wounded body falls lifelessly onto the cemented floor.

“Listen up,” Zoro starts, the two friends’ stomachs churn, and they whip their heads to the psychotic man, “I can let Luffy walk outta that door free as a bird.”

Sanji releases himself from Zoro’s hold but, really, it’s only because the man lets him. “What’ you mean?”

“Exactly what you heard” Zoro replies, now stuffing his side pockets with his hands. “I’m willing to let him go, but on one condition.” And as everyone anticipates, but Sanji with more anxiety than hopefulness –because he knows what trusting Zoro’s words would do to him, said man drops the bomb. “Sanji has to stay.”

“I refuse!” Luffy interjects, doggedly.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Zoro rolls his eyes at him in response.

Deciphering his meaning now, everyone’s, including Luffy’s, of course, gazes aim Sanji’s.

“Why should I trust anything you say?” Sanji demands, “How can I know for sure that this isn’t some other game of yours where you lead me on and then turn it into a game?”

“I told you I kept him unscathed,” Zoro shrugs, “He can now walk free with no scratch, but of course, if he tries something, my men will soon be on him. Your lovely ear might get parceled to his place too, or maybe an eye?”

“You bastard!” Luffy tries to shoot towards Zoro, but Mihawk’s hold on him is ridiculously stronger.

“I suggest you keep quiet if you want us to get to an agreement here,” Zoro warns him, playfully, “after all, I am doing this for you.”

If Luffy does walk out of this place free and unscratched, then Sanji’s efforts to bear with the humiliation so far wasn’t for nothing. Zoro won’t have his trump card to lay it out in play every time he tries to get his way into Sanji’s pants. Although it sounds too selfless of Zoro to do this so out of the blue, of course, he can’t be doing it out of the goodness of his heart so it means he has something else up his sleeves. But Sanji can deal with one thing at a time, and he is not going to waste a chance like this. He isn’t that stupid.

“Fine,” Sanji grits out, “I’ll stay.”

“Sanji, you idiot!” Luffy cries, sobbingly. “I don’t want to go and leave you here!”

It’s going to pierce his heart for a few days, but Luffy is smart. He’ll figure out how to adapt pretty soon, and Sanji places his utmost trust in him. And it’s sad to see him like this, and he can’t even imagine what his parents could be going through right now. So if one of the children is back sound and safe, unlike so many, Luffy parents’ grief may diminish bit by bit, and that’s all Sanji cares about. Damn it, he misses his parents.

“Listen here, Luffy,” Sanji’s voice is steady and hopeful, but his eyes are on the floor, downcast and foggy. “I want you to graduate. I want you to get a job and meet someone, and I want you to have lots of kids.”

Luffy wails a ‘no, please, stop’.

“But forget about me,” his voice almost cracks at that, “forget you ever had a childhood friend, please. I’m asking you, Luffy, live your life and make me proud.”

“Oh, that was so beautiful,” Zoro scoffs, wiping an eye, “I even shed a tear.”

Sanji glowers at him.

Zoro smirks at him.

“Should we take our leave now?” Mihawk inquires.

“Take him out of here,” Zoro waves off a hand, “and make sure he doesn’t forget the terms of our agreement.”

Mihawk pulls a devastated Luffy from there, and Sanji watches with a pair of hurt eyes the image of his friend because that’s the last he is going to see of him. It’s alright, a little price to pay for something so overwhelmingly big. Luffy deserves to live happily, actually all of his friends did but that doesn’t fall under the same heading now that most of them are either blown off, decapitated or beheaded, or –he glances over at Nami’s almost unrecognizable face– _that_.

“Now,” Zoro lets out a heavy sigh, taking his hands out of his pockets to wrap them over his chest defensively. “Should we wake Nami up? I kind of don’t want her to miss the party again, not after you went through the trouble to come all the way here to pay her a visit” –he flashes an eerie smile now to Sanji’s direction– “I also want to confide something in her.”

At that, Law resumes the work of slapping Nami’s face a few times until the girl beneath squirms and groans ashore. Her eyes slowly start to open, beholding the assaulter standing atop her. Beyond him, two men she comes to recognize after another inspection by her bruised eyes.

“Sanji …” She croaks out, trying to sit up but her body is too sore and all she manages to do is sit hunched. “Y-you’re alive!”

Sanji wishes he wasn’t.

“Let’s skip that, shall we?” Zoro states, begrudgingly. “Now,” he walks up to Nami and grasps a fistful of her hair to yank it, forcing her to look up. He has the utter gall to look apologetic. “Nami, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

Sanji scowls at the maniac.

“You see Sanji over there,” he flicked his wrist to motion at the direction of the man. “He made a bet on your life, yours for his childhood friend’s.”

“What?” Sanji exclaims.

“What,” Zoro lifts his chin, openly challenging. “Are you going to deny the fact that you’ve never asked how Nami was holding up if she was dead or alive?” he asks. “Didn’t you and your friend try to jailbreak just half an hour ago, didn’t care if Nami was left behind?”

This man, just what is he, a snake in disguise?

Just what the hell is he made of?

“That’s…” Sanji’s words fail him.

“Nami,” Zoro speaks again, “Luffy was allowed to leave, in exchange for your life.”

“No, that’s not true!” Sanji denies, vehemently. “You’re full of shit!”

“Quiet, J,” Zoro’s movements are slow as he shushes the other with a finger on his lips, “I’m talking now.”

Sanji gulps down his retort.

“So I was saying,” Zoro resumes after looking away from Sanji’s eyes with a smirk plastered on his lips. “Luffy is free now thanks to your sacrifice. He’s outside these walls. I’m serious, ask Sanji.”

The two look up at the man, and all he does is shake his head dazedly. “Y-you’re…” he almost falters but, thankfully, his anger pulses again. “You’re not just evil, Roronoa Zoro.” He says, “You’re the devil himself.”

“So are you going to deny that I let your friend walk out?!” Zoro barks until everyone flinches.

“No, but it was on no one’s expense but mine!” Sanji counters, tenaciously.

Zoro dips his chin now for a daunting moment before he barks a laugh. He lifts up to his feet, thrusts his hands into his pockets and lets out a little sigh. “Your adherence to decorum is quite a joke, J.” He bites out, “perhaps you’re yearning for that whip again.”

Sanji quickly shakes his head, “I’m…” he starts, but Zoro’s raised hand forestalls whatever he wanted to say.

“Save it.” He says, he uses that lifted hand to motion to Law. “Gimme your knife.”

Sanji fists his hands and holds his ground, eyes wide and wary. But Zoro simply puts the knife in Nami’s hand and withdraws from the girl’s space, leisurely. Nami weighs the knife in her hand like it’s an item she’s never seen in her life until now, and then she looks up at Sanji who is shaking his head at her, willing her to at least doubt what the killer has told her. Then she tries to stand on his aching legs.

“Nami…” Sanji’s voice is faint by now, “don’t trust a word he says.”

“Quit whining, J,” Zoro breathes out, dismally. “Take it like a man.”

Easy for you to say when nobody’s aiming a knife at your guts. Sanji hasn’t forgotten how to fight in close combats and, although Zoro did take him out in no time really, he can still take out someone with Nami’s body shape. He can even make use of the girl’s unstable physical state. But even if it’s looking up to his side he still doesn’t want to fight Nami over something so worthless like Zoro’s misguided advice.

“Nami, you have to believe me!” Sanji tries again despite Zoro’s warning. “Why am I here then? If what he’s saying is the truth, then explain to me why I’m still here!”

“Easy,” Zoro answers for him, “because the deal was one person.”

Sanji blows out a weary sigh, “It’s not true!” he whines, “Nami, he just wants to see us fight, that’s all. It’s true Luffy left, but the only deal I made with him was me staying behind.” He reasons, “I’m not making any of this up. Please, you have to believe me!”

And Nami, as though in a trance, slowly drops the knife.

Zoro chuckles, and the vibrating tone attracts everyone’s attention. Zoro doubles over and lets out a loud laugh. His shoulders rocking, and it’s the first time Sanji actually sees the maniac expressing his demented amusement like a run-of-the-mill villain. “I’m sorry,” he says, now straightening up, “it’s just… this is so fucking boring. I just thought of another idea, and I must say, it makes me quite happy.”

Sanji and Nami shudder visibly when Zoro flashes a smirk.

“Okay, enough games,” he says, “Sanji, there’s something you need to know.”

Sanji is too scared to even twitch a brow as he stands still at his spot.

“Law there,” he nods at the young man who perks up at his name being mentioned, “He’s the one who set you up.” He confesses, “He’s the reason all your friends are dead.”

“Sire,” Law speaks for the first time, “what’s the meaning of this?”

Sanji’s eyes settle on Law, rage and fury roving inside him like waves crashing on rocks.

Zoro silences him so he can speak. “You think the car trip was Frank’s idea? Not a chance. That guy was too stupid to come up with something like that. It was our Law here all along –he planned it out from the get-go.”

Sanji’s –and he’s pretty sure even Nami’s breathing is labored by now.

“He brought you guys to your doom.” His voice is harsh, resonating between these walls like the absolute voice of reason. “It’s his fault, all of it!” he is yelling fiercely by the end of it.

Sanji shoots towards the knife Nami dropped and seizes it in his own hand. Nami shouts a desperate ‘no, don’t!’ as she watches with horror how Sanji leaps to Law’s direction, the knife coming down with him and aiming Law’s heart.

He’s going to pierce it… by God, he’s going to finish off the bastard who set them up. Sanji’s rage multiplies… the bastard who killed so many people and robbed them of their youth; who caged him here, brought him down to his knees, begging…

Law stands stupefied before the knife as it comes down with such speed and then it soon pierces something: flesh, Sanji can tell. The scent of fresh blood, sickening and never easy to get used to, permeates the air. Sanji parts his eyes when he hears the pained groan, and what he sees does not really bring him even a scrape close to vengeance.

Nami is standing between him and Law, barely. Sanji feels the girl’s faint breath falling on his lips, their faces before each other’s. Sanji sobs, tearlessly.

“W-what… you…” he chastises, his eyes quivering into Nami’s kind, doleful ones.

Nami coughs, and blood soon comes out of her small mouth splashing in torrents. And then she shakes his head, jadedly. “Don’t.” She utters, “Sanji, you’re… different.”

“No, no, no…” Sanji whimpers as he slowly lets go of the knife that is still planted into Nami’s chest. He brings his blood-spattered hands to both of Nami’s shoulder as the latter starts to teeter and hover over. He holds her still. “Nami, no –Oh God what have I done?”

“Not you,” Nami states, vehemently. “You… are different.”

“Nami, I just tried to kill the other bastard over there.” He cries, and tears slowly escape his eyes when Nami rests her forehead on Sanji’s. “How am I so different? I just stabbed you –oh God! What should I do?”

Nami’s knees buckle, and she is soon falling to the floor on her back. Sanji is falling along with her.

“Sanji,” she blurts out through the coughs and the blood-plugged gullet. “Don’t fall.”

Sanji uses the angle of their position to staunch the blood with his two hands. “I’m so sorry, Nami, I’m so fucking sorry!”

Nami, then, quirks a very wide smile and it momentarily takes Sanji to a warm and safe place. And very slowly, Nami become stills completely with her eyes on the ceiling.

“Nami?” Sanji’s whisper croaks, “Nami, don’t you dare, okay? I’m gonna stop the bleeding, just want you to stay focused for me, you get that?”

But Nami slowly closes her eyes, and she never opens them again.

Sanji’s eyes flutter aimlessly. He looks over Nami’s face, her body and then back to her strangely peaceful face. His pressure on the wound slowly eases as he retracts his hands back to him, shaking.

A clap, two more, and then a third before Zoro cuts the silence. “Beautiful, very beautiful, Sanji,” he vouches with false amusement, “that was Oscar-worthy.”

Sanji’s still-trembling eyes scan his hands, too red, too sinful…

“You know what a coup de grace is, J?” Zoro wonders, “It’s a merciful death blow, and you’ve administered that professionally, bravo.”

Sanji’s awareness comes back to him, but flawed. He looks up at Zoro who cocks his head and awaits the oncoming verbal assault. Sanji manages to lever up to his feet, still a little wobbly after the rapid drain of adrenaline. “You think this is funny?” he chides, “A girl has just died! A girl you’d have saved, you sick son of a bitch!”

“I didn’t stab her.” Zoro shrugs on a mock-pout, “you did.”

“I hate you.” Sanji grits out, acidly. “You’re sick, you’re disgusting, and I fucking hate you.”

Zoro’s blasé demeanor morphs into something vague. Something that consists of furrowed eyebrows, doleful eyes and pained expression. And Sanji can’t believe it. “You…” Zoro gulps, “you don’t mean that.”

“I hate you!” Sanji shouts until his voice cracks.

There was a table lined for all these people who engrossed themselves with torturing Nami, Zoro knocks it over, letting go of a raged scream. He kicks the metallic items clanging on the floor and working on fueling his animalistic anger. Sanji is watching only, too scared even to twitch. Law then decides to appease to the man vibrating with stirring wrath, but it’s too much of a wrong move as Zoro gets a hold of a scattered circumcision knife and plunges it into the young man’s left eye, rotates it deeper the more Law struggles. Law crumbles to the ground in a dead-weight heap.

“You hate me?” Zoro goads on with his velvety voice as he slowly reels around facing Sanji. “I guess it’s to be expected from an ungrateful whore like you. I mean” –he approaches Sanji’s impuissant body now– “some men can’t help but chase the bitch.” –he grabs hold of Sanji’s hair and starts dragging him somewhere else as the other winces and whimpers but does nothing to fight his way out of the other’s hold, before he suddenly pauses, not much of his face can be seen from Sanji’s angle– “I love you” he says, before he starts dragging Sanji along the hallway again, his voice rising up again in clear admonishment. “I fucking love you, and you’ll never find someone who loves you as much as I do!”

“Just end it,” Sanji sobs, the bathrobe has fallen off his shoulders. “End it here and now, Zoro, or I will.”

Zoro then pauses in his tracks again, and this time, he gives Sanji’s head a hefty shove as he throws him against the wall until Sanji crashes against it violently and slides down with a groan. Zoro is soon onto him, topping him and bringing down a punch after another, to Sanji’s cheek, jaw, head, chest, Sanji only need to name it.

 

After Sanji wakes up, he finds that many things are not as they seem because, what he thought was his older room turned out to be a bathroom of a sort. He is now reclining inside a claw tub, empty of any water. He is tied, both wrists strapped by a zip tie before his chest. And his face, oh Lord in heavens, when is he ever going to rid of the feeling of his face sore and beaten. Worse of all, Zoro is keeping watch beside the bathtub, taunting eyes looking down on Sanji. The later, on his part, tries to scramble out of the tub because his legs aren’t tied, but every attempt fails immensely and all Sanji’s left to do is watch with awe how his legs buckle under him. It must be some sort of a nerve drug or something or else what could explain such a thing, and Zoro is a neurologist so getting his hands on something like this –something that paralyzes you from the waist down, is highly likely.

“Let me go!” He demands, caustically. “You can’t do this to me!”

Zoro turns deaf ears to Sanji’s wretched biddings with that infamous poker face of his and swivels towards the direction of stacked gallons on the right side of the bathroom. He unscrews the cap of the first gallon his hand falls on, and he brings it to the bathtub, pouring its content all over Sanji’s legs.

Sanji’s eyes widen at the realization that what’s been poured on him is blood, still warm.

After Zoro empties the first gallon and tosses it aside, he smirks very deeply. “Smells nice, doesn’t it?”

Sanji’s entire body shudders, and he starts recoiling from everything.

Zoro brings a second, pours its content into the tub. And another, and then another and all Sanji can do is watch as the blood reaches his middle before he loses his ground and is soon degenerated to a mess.

“Don’t do this,” he sobs, “I’ll be good, please, don’t do this to me.”

The blood level is soon reaching his nose, and Sanji can’t keep his mouth and nose above it since his legs have turned jelly without his constant. And by the last gallon tossed, Zoro crouches beside the tub and fists Sanji’s hair, bringing it a little up so Sanji can breathe.

“You promised me that before,” he says, a sly smirk on his lips, “you promised me to be good and I trusted you.” At that, his smirk falls and, with a pair of empty eyes beholding his handiwork. Zoro plunges Sanji’s head into the blood, forcing it under as the other resists, looking as though he wants Sanji to drown to his death but he soon brings it up again.

Sanji gasps and coughs.

“How does your friends’ blood taste like?” Asking so, Zoro forces the other’s head under the blood again, and Sanji squirms to break from the suffocating pressure, but to no avail.

When Zoro looks like he is done playing, he repositions Sanji so that he is lying with his arms outside the tub and armpits bracing on its rim. He is kneeling, his ass peeking out of the blood and Zoro fondles it –slippery touch makes Sanji hiss. Zoro stands from his crouch and gets into the bathtub, unzips his fly and immobilizes Sanji’s by the hips. And very slowly, he pushes the head of his cock into Sanji’s entrance, and he stops when Sanji winces audibly only to push all the way in, luxuriating in the impossible feeling of tightness stretching around him. He pounds hard in his tight hole with faint groans and moans from his part, loud sobbing from Sanji’s.

And then, he fucks Sanji’s ass senseless.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't proofread because my beta was unlucky in showing up online for the past week. Wed night is the deal so here's the new chapter. I apologize beforehand for all the mistakes you're certainly going to find and I do hope it won't ruin your reading.

 

 

“Rough…” Sanji murmurs with strain. He is crouching on four over the memory foam, and the next time he tries to speak through his staggered moans, a querulous cry escapes through his parted lips, “so rough.”

Zoro endorses in the absolutely titillating sensation, taking no notice of Sanji’s tribulation of being brought to his knees, bearing his ass to a man who has no qualms giving him a 4 inch rectal fissure. And he doesn’t stop, he never stops. Once he gets his hips working, Zoro doesn’t stop until he ejaculates, and sometimes, when he is in a good mood, he even fucks the cum out of Sanji until the latter is reduced down to nothing but a loud moaning mess.

When Zoro finally pulls his cock out, the assaulted hole gapes in slight twitching. There’s a long trail of cum that connect the hole to the crown of Zoro’s cock, and the psycho, he smirks.

 

This is how Sanji’s been spending his days ever since his friend left.

 

For one, he knows that as long as he stays locked behind these four walls, his future will remain obfuscated. But on the contrary, his friend can walk free under the sky. This is not something he’s been looking forward to: getting raped everyday is not exactly a wish to write on a graduation card, but again, if his friend is alive and well, safe and sound at home with his parents, then he can put up with it. That is, if he doesn’t eventually go out of his mind.

“Sanji,” Zoro’s deep voice calls out, softly.

As though on auto mode, Sanji sits up and turns around, gazes emptily at Zoro’s slick cock for a moment.

“Come on,” Zoro coons, “you know the drill, Sanji. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Sanji flinches slightly at the revolting reminder. Really, cleaning Zoro off with his mouth... is that how he’s going to spend his life?

“You know what,” Zoro tilts his head a little, eyes narrowing with apparent incredulity. “I think you’re stalling on purpose, in fact, I think you want me to hurt you.” He concludes, “or else why the hell would you keep up the same attitude when I’ve beat it into you and told you countless times that I hate it when you keep me waiting.”

Sanji shakes his head unobtrusively, gaze softening. “I’ll do it.”

“Well,” Zoro intones, “get on it.”

Sanji gulps his lump and ducks down, mouth hovering over Zoro’s cock. Small lips that are grazed with a cut from the other day’s beating –which he can’t remember when because after his friend left, Zoro’s been even more violent towards Sanji who, usually, receives the beating for rejecting something Zoro asks of him to do. But what little defiance Sanji shows, Zoro beats it to a scrape. His mouth opens around the meaty head oozing precum and very slowly takes the hard cock in –he takes it all in, and then he pulls back to tongue the head with abandon, repeating the process all over again, and again, managing to pull contented sighs from Zoro’s mouth. Sanji is keeping his bobbing movement on the cock very gentle in part to not agitate the cut on his lips, and in part, to get Zoro’s mind off of him.

“You’re really good at this,” Zoro admires through his tunneled vision, a sense of pleasure washing over him, “a fucking natural.”

Sanji hums on the cock, knowing the vibration will do something to Zoro. He likes it.

Zoro gasps a little and shuffles to settles on his knees. He brings his hands to Sanji’s hair as the latter doesn’t break the connection between the cock and his mouth, and then Zoro snaps his hips. “You’re a relict, Sanji” He tells him when Sanji’s entire demeanor becomes taut. “You can take this.”

To his horror, Sanji feels Zoro thrusting into his mouth, and then cold fingers parting his wounded lips wider to let more access to the thick cock. This isn’t the first time Zoro does something so out of the blue like this, nor it is the second, or the third… but what makes this time different from the others is actually the cut on Sanji’s lip that could reopen and, adding to that, a cock pushing in to the back of his throat... the pain is not even in the range of bad, it’s beyond it. Zoro rocks his hips back and forth, relishing the feeling with an expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

The more Sanji tries to pull his head off, the tighter the hold on his head becomes. The suffocating feeling is a lot worse than the rough stretching of his unprepared anus, and he feels death at the threshold of his floating consciousness, and does he want to let her in?

Hot cum suddenly shoots to the back of his throat, immediately clogging it. Respiration becomes futile because Zoro is still not taking his cock out. Sanji’s eye pupils roll to the back and he slumps down, the cock still tucked between his lips as cum spills down the corners of his mouth.

 

Dracule is here again, like always, he’s here to clean after Zoro’s mess.

Sanji used to recoil, flinch and curse every time Dracule’s fingertips as much as brushed against his skin. Now, he doesn’t even stir as the man scrubs his long legs with a damp cloth. Usually, Dracule is brisk in his movements, but today… today he is rather gentle. The touch of a mother, of a lover, something Sanji’s been craving for ever since Zoro tethered him here like a wild animal.

“You’re something.” Sanji mumbles, voice weak and almost comes off so faint. “No matter what kind of mess Zoro leaves behind, you’re always there to clean it up.”

“It’s what I’m getting paid to do.” Dracule replies, robotically.

Sanji tilts his head slightly, “so if I pay you, would you get me out of here?”

Dracule’s hands stop at that and his eyes slide up, landing on Sanji’s.

“I’m saying I’m willing to pay.” Sanji urged, his hand tracking a long trail over his bruised torso, suggestively, teasingly…“I can read the way you look at me,” he sighs, “you want me.”

Dracule’s brows tremble and his Adam apple bobs.

“I’ll pay you, so get me out of here.” Sanji prompts again, his tone cold.

 

He often heard people say he took after his father, and Sanji isn’t about to argue that. He knows he is almost the spitting image of his father, and there’s even little pride when people point the resemblance out, because his father is a good man.

After the accident, Sanji’s father didn’t confiscate his car keys, didn’t take away his laptop and didn’t ground him. Although, Sanji could easily chalk it up to his epilepsy, but something about the new glint in his father’s eyes, the way he looked at him with no reproach. From that point on, that’s the only thing that set Sanji on the right path.

So as he sits on this comfy sofa with his dad slouching back on the backrest next to him, watching the national team going for a penalty kick, he relishes the moment. For a reason, it feels ephemeral, for a reason, it feels like any moment and it’d be snatched away by some daunting power, and he doesn’t know. And although he can’t bring himself to tell his father about the fear festering a hole inside his chest, he eventually decides fear of loss is common. He looks up at his father’s profile, loving the peacefulness of the man’s endorsement, the aberrantly assorted moles spreading out his neck and cheek, the curled lips and nose he got from him, and he suddenly feels remorse.

Fear and remorse fusing together...

“I know.” His father says, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. “You’re getting used to it.”

Sanji’s brows tremble and his eyes narrow at his father.

“Scary, isn’t it?” His father says again, “getting used to it.”

Sanji looks at the TV screen now, too.

“But Sanji,” he smiled, and Sanji isn’t sure if it’s because the team they’ve been rooting for has just scored or because of what he is about to tell him. “This darkness, it’s not perpetual.”

Sanji looks up again at his father, and this time his father looks back at him.

“We won.”

The front door rattles and Sanji’s eyes snap to it. His fear flares back to life again, more palpable with each rattle. He looks at his father whose face is slowly melting away, and he quickly recoils, hitting something solid and cold. He presses against it more, willing it to tip backward so he can flee away, but it’s still solid. Unbending, just like his new reality.

When the darkness gets swallowed by blinding light, Sanji trips back to the horrifying realization that his father, the couch, the homey house… all of that was just a dream.

“Sanji.” The maniacal doctor is standing at the downward frame of his mattress, lab coat over white turtleneck sweater, black trousers and shiny loafers.

Sanji looks up at the man through bleary eyes, hating the look of triumph on his face.

“Were you planning to leave?” Zoro asks, incredulous eyes peering down at his captive.

Sanji swallows thickly, shuffles to reposition himself on the solid wall he tried to press against earlier. The, he straightens his chained legs over the mattress, allowing them to feel the dried blood and cum against the skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dracule then appears into his peripheral vision, apathetic and silent, like he always is.

“Are you sure?” Zoro drawls, playfully. “Because a little bird told me you wanted out.”

Sanji’s anxiety goes up a few notches. He glares at Dracule for a moment, when the other looks elsewhere, Sanji looks back at Zoro, defeated. “I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You even offered him your body as payment.” Zoro’s green eyes widen and his playful smirk tenses, “did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?”

Sanji quickly bows his head to Zoro, “I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Won’t, huh?” Zoro glowers, “you fucking liar.”

Sanji winces.

“On your knees, bend over.” Zoro orders, taking off his lab coat.

“Please… I’m sorry…” Sanji’s voice croaked, voice strained with tears. Of course Dracule wasn’t going to keep the little preposition to himself, of course he was going to let Zoro in on it eventually. Sanji is a fucking idiot. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sanji,” Zoro lets go of a bitter sigh, “stop saying sorry, you bastard, and kneel.”

Sanji shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut until a dam of tears roll down his cheeks. “I’m... sorry.”

Zoro seizes his captive by the hair, which has grown to his neck, and he tosses him towards the mattress until Sanji groans, his injuries protesting at the maltreatment.

“Hold his hands.” Zoro growled, now straddling Sanji’s back since the latter is lying flat on his stomach, face buried into the mattress.

Dracule grabs hold of Sanji’s flailing hands and crosses them down before Sanji’s face, adding his own pressure on the limbs. Sanji hears rustling of trousers on his skin, before a gentle hand lands on his bruised shoulder blades, pushing him more into the dirty mattress.

His heart rate grows frantic and his breathing hitches when something cold and sharp sinks into the back of his left shoulder. “No, please.” He squirms, “please, stop! Zoro! Don’t do this, please!”

“Whining and whining nonstop,” Zoro gripes, jadedly. “You never learn, do you. How many times have I told you the pleading card never works on me, not anymore.” He tells him, “it’d have if you never broke your promises, but you always break them, and I’m not about to play into the hands of a whore who doesn’t even appreciate the lengths I go to in order to keep you in.”

Sanji shakes his head, his tousled, neck-length hair whirls about his face, tingling his upper-arms. “Please don’t, stop…”

Zoro breathes out an impatient sigh through his nose, “Hold him down.”

Soon, the cold sharpness returns to touch the fevered skin of his back, sinking deeper and tearing his skin. Sanji lets out one pained scream after another. The feeling of his skin getting torn by whatever sharp object Zoro is using is… it’s like the touch of tormenting death. Oh God, would death feel better than this? Is he really better off slumped on the mattress and lifeless. Would Zoro still torture him and rape him, even dead?

Another flick of Zoro’s wrist as he scrapes into the skin to engrave it wills a scream from Sanji, and soon tears stream down his face, infiltrating into his mouth. The taste is salty, and so is the scent of his blood. By the time Zoro lifts the sharp thing off, Sanji sags down, all his joints relaxing, yet still shuddering. The burning throb coming from his shoulder blades is still radiating like bad sunburn.

Dracule finally releases Sanji’s arms and retreats away.

The gauze Dracule wrapped around Sanji’s forearm before because of a burn scar Zoro had left on him slowly comes off. The recent cuts reopened and are now bleeding. And his arms are now covered in new hand marks that are sure to bruise for a while.

Sanji tenses again when Zoro glides a hand towards his waist, lifting it off the mattress so that only his ass is in the air. Sanji’s fingers twitch but remain wilted next to his head.

“Inject him now.” Zoro grits out.

Dracule takes Sanji’s arm in his hand, the other fishes out a syringe from his pocket, and honestly, Sanji doesn’t even care at this point.

As the needle digs into the nook of Sanji’s elbow, a disquieting heat spreads out inside him. His body becomes hot, oh God, too hot.

“It’s working.” Zoro notes out as he hovers over Sanji’s back.

“What the hell” –Sanji moans, clenching his fists on the fabric and repositioning his legs, wanting to tear himself apart from his body– “did you give me?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac, Sanji.” He replies in a brash manner. “You’ll feel better in a minute.”

And in a minute, Sanji isn’t only feeling better, he is feeling heavenly.

His cock stands erect, his nippless perk up and his tongue rolls off drool. His entire body is covered in sweat and the heat is growing unbearable, yet still tolerable.

Zoro aligns his cock along Sanji’s rim, rubbing the crown against the puckered skin until Sanji keens.

“I… I don’t want this.” Sanji whimpers, clutching at the mattress until veins pop along his hand, “please, Zoro, make it stop.”

“Don’t want to.” Zoro simply shrugs.

The tip of Zoro’s cock slowly digs its way in, and Sanji sucks in a sharp gasp. Zoro stills and Sanji lifts his hips off the mattress, chasing after the cock teasing his entrance. He doesn’t know why his body isn’t obeying him, he can’t even think right with the way he’s feeling, because this isn’t right.

“In…” he mumbles on a low moan.

“Hum? What was that again?” Zoro feigns ignorance. “’Didn’t quite catch that.”

Sanji lifts a hand and places it on one of his ass cheeks, he spreads it open and mewls, “stick it in deeper, you bastard.”

Zoro licks his upper lip and settles on biting his tongue when it reaches the corner of his lips. He locks two vice-grips on either of Sanji’s hip before he slams his own and thrusts his cock in.

Sanji’s hand falls before him again as he lets loose a pornographic moan. He props on his elbows and sinks both his hands into his hair, clutching it to try to keep his moans stifled in.

“But that’s no fun, Sanji.” Zoro whines, now grinding into Sanji’s G-spot. “I like your voice, let me hear it.”

“Oh yeah,” Sanji sighs, “there, Zoro, right there, fuck me harder.” His voice breaks right through his teeth into a litany of sexy moans, eliciting Zoro and even making Dracule hard under his pants. And judging by the size, it looks like any more and he’d burst.

Zoro brings his mouth to Sanji’s right ear, whispering sharply into it. “Look at him, he might as well cum in his pants just hearing you moan like a bitch in heat.” He says, snapping his hips more and causing Sanji a pleasurable shudder. “But you know what’d happen if he cums? You know what castration is, Ji? You’re a smart guy, I’m pretty sure you have an idea what I’m talking about.”

If what Zoro is saying is that if Dracule climaxes then he’ll get his dick removed, then Sanji is not really being intimidating.

“He ratted on me,” Sanji says through gritted teeth, “you can go ahead and mutilate him all you want. Heck, I’ll even lend a hand.”

Zoro barks a laugh, now dropping his lips into Sanji’s neck, “You think I was intimidating you?”

Sanji falls silent, short for the moans that make their way out every now and then. “You weren’t?”

“No, you idiot.” He chuckles, now tonguing the carvings he made on Sanji’s back. “I was intimidating him.”

Sanji groans in agony beneath him.

“Well, Dracule, you can feast your eyes.” He muttered, nibbling at the marks absentmindedly. “But he’s mine.” He said, “You hear me, Sanji? You’re my toy to break, and mine to fix.”

Sanji shakes his head, his clutch growing tighter on his hair. He doesn’t know if someone out there is listening, but he begs, he begs to be saved, anyone. He just wants to be saved. He feels the last piece of his pride shatter, and soon ominous hands are on him, bringing darkness over him with their stealth like smoke, dragging him down to a bottomless pit of nothingness. He knows now, he has reached the bottom of Zoro’s darkness.

Sanji’s stomach lurches in instant horror as a flash of the dark days he’s spent being Zoro’s toy played in his head. “I’ll kill you…” He bites out, “remember this, Roronoa.”

And soon, he shoots his load on the mattress.

 

“It’s hindering me.” Zoro murmurs to himself as he fumbles with blonde, unkempt hair. He is still straddling the back of a drained Sanji, playing with smooth strands.

The faintest of tremors reverberate across Sanji’s arms and back the longer Zoro’s skin keeps brushing against his. Yet all he manages is a twitch. One of his arms is draped by his side and the other slumped next to his face. His eyelids fluttering to a slit as a stray tear slides down the length of his nose.

“Bring me some scissors,” Zoro commands, distractedly. “As much as I want you to grow out your hair,” this he tells Sanji as the other man bustles about in the room. “But it’s in the way.” This time, he fondles Sanji’s cheek and the latter flinches, only slightly though. It’s as if he’s seen the hand coming to make contact with his face but he was still unable to rein in the reaction. A thumb is soon stroking the mole over his right eyebrow ever so gently; it almost coaxes Sanji to sleep. “You tried to buy your way out, Sanji.” He starts, velvety voice talking in a whisper, “and I can’t overlook that, otherwise, you’ll keep trying.”

Sanji shudders when the thumb presses against his temple. Pep talk, really? The fucker just raped him senseless. God, his back is throbbing so bad, just what the hell did Zoro carve on his skin?

“I checked on your friend by the way,” he tells him, conversationally.

Sanji’s eyes snap open, more focused as the blue irises tremble.

“He’s doing well, your entire family is, too.” Zoro provides, and adds as an afterthought. “Better than you, actually”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better, how?” Sanji grits out, his voice raspy and a little scratchy.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” Zoro offers, “just name it.”

“I want to go home.” Sanji cries.

Zoro leans into the hollow of Sanji’s neck, caressing in the lightest brush of his lips. “This is your home.”

“If you’re not going to give me what I want then why are you wasting our time with idle chatter,” Sanji retaliates, “If you want to bribe me into staying, I want nothing from a monster like you.”

Zoro’s jaw hinges down, lips pursing and brows furrowing. “Is that so?”

“It is so.” Sanji replied.

Dracule finally makes his way towards the mattress, handing the scissors to Zoro.

“You call me a monster, but you’re the one who killed his friend.” Zoro muses, now straightening up atop a shocked Sanji and slowly sinking his fingers into the hair again.

“I didn’t.” Sanji insists, the veins along his temples popping.

“Oh, yes, you did.” Zoro drawls, holding a lock of Sanji’s hair to cut it. “You rammed that knife right into her heart and you didn’t even bat an eye.”

The clipping of metal resonates like a vivid reminder of that day… the day he stabbed Nami to death.

Sanji shakes his head and wails again. Oh God, he didn’t mean to.

“Careful there,” Zoro sing-songs, now holding another lock of Sanji’s hair, “I might gouge a hole in your head or something”

Sanji’s entire body stiffens, and he can almost taste the threat in the nonchalantly spoken words.

“Your friend looked like he was having the fun of his life,” he resumes the story, “heck, I gotta say, I even had second thoughts whether or not he was the same person. He looked really happy with his life.”

Sanji quiets down, doesn’t sniffle and doesn’t hiccup, “Good.”

The snipping of scissors pauses before it resumes again, ending the deafening silence. “You know what you are, San?”

“Not a psychopath, I can tell you this much.” Sanji scoffs.

“And off with the heady sarcasm,” Zoro chirps, “Seriously, isn’t it getting a little old?”

Just to spite him, Sanji chuckles, “Nope,” he drags the ‘p’. “I mean,” he clears his throat with a wet cough. Gosh, he shouldn’t have screamed his lungs out like that, it’s not like that’s the first time Zoro’s fucked him that hard. “Do you ever get tired of being the psycho mania that gets off on maiming, skinning and raping?”

“So we’re the same.” Zoro deadpans.

“You don’t get enough of torturing me and I don’t get enough of putting you on blast every time you think you’ve had your way with me, there’s a difference.” Sanji huffs, crossly. His nostrils flaring

“You hear that, Drac?” Zoro muses, like he’s just gotten his hand on something Sanji babbled away unconsciously during his rant. “He thinks I’m not having my way with him.”

A high squeak leaves Sanji when he tries to mock-laugh with his hoarse voice, “I said it before, you bastard” he starts, “I’ll say it again so that this time it sinks in for good. I’ve long since had you figured out; you’re a child, Zoro. I don’t know what fucked-up environment you were raised in when you were a kid but brute force isn’t gonna cut it for you anymore, it never had, with me that is. Sorry, badass. And if you’re thinking of bringing up your trump card of hurting my friend wherever the hell he is, I say go ahead and screw yourself. You think after everything, Luffy won’t be prepared for getting jumped at again? Are you also an idiot besides being a nut job?” he seethes, the tirade of his ranting making Zoro completely still and silent, “I’ve managed to break out of every room you put me in, what makes you think I’d stop, because you say you love me? Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I fall for nutcase like you? You abuse me physically for leisure, you rape me on a regular basis and plug your cum inside after every single time. And God, this is the worst of it, you always talk like you already have me wrapped around your little finger!” He pants, breathlessly.

“Seems like your story is short of a little detail, though” Zoro mutters.

Sanji narrows his eyes on the floor, searchingly, and his chest heaves.

Zoro lifts the scissor and stabs it into the mattress next to his knee. He combs the short hair and scoffs, hot breath fanning down on Sanji’s cheek. “I’ve never asked you to love me back.” He says, icily. “You know why?”

Sanji gulps, chest lifting off the mattress as he anticipates the answer.

“Because you already do” he scoffs, “and for the record, you can’t get out.”

“You say that now,” Sanji barks a derisive laugh, ignoring the bit where Zoro said Sanji loves him back, because he doesn’t, he never will. “But guess what, even if Dracule here is loyal to you to a fault, I’ll still find a way out, and not you, not any of your sick minions with a penchant to set up innocent people and yell out Nebula out of the freaking blue can stop me!”

At that, Zoro’s body tilts sideways and he falls over with his eyes closed, going completely limp.

“Sire!” Dracule rushes towards them, wide strides getting him sooner to the mattress.

Sanji, awestruck and wide-eyed and also still in a lot of pain, bugs his eyes out at an unconscious Zoro. The unmoving body and the lax features, it’s almost as if he’s died in his sleep. But Sanji knows the devil isn’t dead –he isn’t sure if he is even mortal, for that matter. However, something must have gone wrong, and with all the experiments the maniac does on people, maybe it’s finally backfiring and this is some special brand of hell concocted for him and Sanji can’t bring himself to care at this point. He waits until Dracule is cradling the psycho on his lap and then he latches at the scissors Zoro planted into the mattress. He yanks them out and, raiment-less, makes for the door, not looking back, not even once.

He stumbles out of the door leading to the stairs of hell and savors a moment with the rackety of life bustling in the refulgent hallway. Although he’s out of eyeshot, he can’t help but peek at the civilians traipsing in and out, minding their own business. An image of Zoro blacking out flashes inside Sanji’s head. He stills completely, the memory rendering him motionless. He actually marvels at the fact that he’s getting second thoughts here and, fuck, almost worrying about that psycho maniac who tortured him in every possible way your mind can think of. He raped him everyday, he double-raped him on bad days. He starved him, killed all his friends. Why is Sanji supposed to worry about a person like him, now, of all times?

A reedy voice, the female receptionist’s, blares through the speakers about ‘Doctor Roronoa Zoro is required in room 66’, and Sanji panics. He scans the hallways with a pair of trembling eyes. He knows he can’t head out so he tiptoes to a random door, twists the knob and rejoices at the temporary shelter because, apparently, the patient in this room has been given some of the good stuff –if the dopey eyes and the drool are any indications to go by. Sanji takes the liberty to poke around this guy’s things. He cry-laughs faintly when he gets a hold of a white Henley and light blue jeans. He doesn’t bother with shoes. He puts the Henley on first, feeling a shock of pain shoot through him once the fabric touches his back wounds, then he quickly dons the pants, not wanting to waste any more time. As he fumbles with the zipper, he can feel small beads of sweat running down his forehead, mingled with metallic-smelling liquid.

There’s a square clock on the dresser that shows five thirty in the evening.

Sanji borrows the guy’s phone, he also borrows his money and if there were keys he’d borrow them too, but he doesn’t linger. Zoro’s men, he must have bought new mercenary since Law died and the other machete and bow men haven’t shown their mugs in a while. They’d be out there looking for him so Sanji scurries stealthily towards the gate of his freedom.

He stands at the top of the stairs, just taking in everything for a moment. He can see signs of a town with scattered street lights just a few miles away from the clinic. There’s a vast and almost vacant parking lot just ahead the entrance, but other than that, there are just acres and acres of fog-covered woods looking ghostly under the cloudy night sky –the first he’s seen of the outside world in months. But then he hears it: the gruff voice that belongs to the machete man reminding Sanji of gory images and blood-curdling screams. He whips his head to the source of it and finds the man with another, making their way to the gate from inside the clinic. Sanji’s feet shuffle and soon he is dashing to a gray Camry. He attempts to unlock its door but it doesn’t open, so he glances fervently at the gate and sees the two men scanning the place from their perch. Sanji ducks and crawls to a red Civic, when he touches it, the car alarm goes off, revealing his location in the vicinity.

He stills, completely.

For a moment, he can almost feel his heart beating in his throat: so loud, he hears the pulse.

He props up very slowly and finds the two men sprinting his way. It’d take at least a minute to break the window of the car, unlock the door, and then if there’s no key in the glove compartment or on the dashboard, he’s going to have to hot-wire the damn car and that could be another minute. Without pondering the consequences, he turns around and darts forward –towards the woods.

 

Dead, dewed twigs stab his uncovered soles and dry but sharp branches graze his wounded sides, but Sanji doesn’t stop, not even for a breather.

He remembers writing this scholarly article back in junior year. He picked the topic about TF-CBT under the expressed notion that reliving traumatic experiences heals PTSD. It’s ironic, because it’s exactly what he’s doing now -reliving his deepest fears, his worst nightmares.

He hears the scuttle of footsteps, crunching the fallen leaves and coming after him.

He is hurt. The cuts on his face have reopened and are now dripping blood -he swipes at them with his sleeve. He is cold.

The fresh odor of pine trees and mountain plants gets carried in the wind, spread out in the chilly space and it brings silver light with it. When Sanji looks up, he finds that the clouds have cleared out a little and there it is, the half moon with its radiant halo, illuminating his path and shedding light on the cabin just a few yards away. Sanji looks around, assured that nobody is close by skulking him. He trudges to the cabin and locks himself in its bathroom.

He feels around for a light switch, he doesn’t find it; it’s a cabin, he should’ve guessed as much. His hand knocks against a flashlight. He flicks it on to study his surroundings. The room barely has enough space for a person his height to recline askew. There’s a mirror cracked in the middle hanging on the panel. Barrels, a lots of barrels, a dirty sink, a head shower spray and some shabby towels on a rack. Someone’s gone through some trouble installing everything, and the pumps, someone lived here. It’s too bad they left in a hurry, leaving everything behind. He guesses their loss is his gain.

He looks in the mirror; a ravaged face of a torture victim is looking back at him.

“What have you gotten yourself into, stupid Sanji.” He tells his reflection and he wipes a smudge to amend it but more blood smears stain the surface and he is left with is a blurred image of himself -of his unknown future. He feels the injuries Zoro left on his back bleeding again. He fetches a towel, turns the spigot on but there’s no running water. He spins just a little so that most of his back is facing the mirror but enough so that he can crane his neck to see what reflects on it as well. He furls the Henley from the collar and freezes at the sight: there are characters carved into his back. He doesn’t remove his shirt because he’s pretty sure the fabric has glued itself to the blood, but he pries it apart from his skin bit by bit just to read what the fucker carved on his skin.

“Roronoa” he reads, “Zoro” his breath suddenly hitches as he exclaims “he engraved his name! He fucking etched it into my skin!”

Suddenly something creaks outside these confining walls, something ominous. Sanji looks up, pupils blown and chary, he quickly places the towel on his wounds to keep them from bleeding more as he stands still, waiting.

Footsteps march very slowly inside the cabin, ignoring how the plank moans under the strain.

“Sanji~” a velvety voice intones, playfully.

Sanji’s body goes rigid with fear, his pupils dilate with it, and they tremble as he holds his breath, praying to whoever brought him here to spare him. Last time he saw Zoro the maniac was unconscious, so what in the blue hell is he doing here trailing him down.

“I know you’re in here.” Zoro sing-songs, “this is actually a lot of fun.”

Sanji’s jaw hinges down as resignation finally settles in.

He’s been going around it for a while when the glaring truth had been there, in plain sight: he can never get away. Not now, not ever. He is Zoro’s hobby, he is that man’s plaything and men like Zoro don’t give up on their playthings. Somehow, Sanji knew that but he preferred the illusory safety he felt not mulling this over.

Valiantly going against Zoro’s orders, diving head-on into the man’s darkness and pulling devil-may-cry stunts… he knew it was a world of make-believe so he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of the situation. There’s no way Zoro would let go of him now, not after he’s gone to the extreme to make Sanji his bitch, even carving his own name on his captive.

 

A Knock…

Sanji’s eyes well up with tears that soon stream down his cheeks, and soon, he is sobbing silently.

Two more knocks now.

Sanji clears his throat and looks around the bathroom again. He probably can’t escape, but he’s going to make sure he’ll go down fighting if it comes down to that.

Zoro pounds on the door now, “Open the fucking door, Sanji.”

Sanji shakes his head and shuffles in a slight rearward movement, grabs the flashlight and aims it at the door.

The door rattles when Zoro, most likely, punches it.

Sanji doesn’t want to be entombed inside those four walls again and he doesn’t want to spend what’s left of his life pleasing a maniac until he fades away… gosh the idea alone is repellent to him.

“This actually amps up the passion in our relationship, don’t you think?” Zoro scoffs, pounding the door and twisting the knob, willing it to come off, which, Sanji fears, could happen soon. “Come on, Sanji, enough games, open up.”

“No.” Sanji’s brittle voice hollers.

“You want me to kick this door down, ‘cause I will!” Zoro threatens.

“I want you to leave me alone!” Sanji bellows.

“Now you’re just acting like a teenage girl who cries ‘I hate you, Dad’ and locks herself in her room.” Zoro jokes, “Come on, Sanji.” He coaxes, “open up, I’m kinda itching to see you.”

“No, you want to beat me to death.”

“Not to death, per se.” Zoro assures, “it can’t be helped, Sanji. What, you go harum-scarum and try to buy your ticket outta this place and expect me to let it slide?”

“You carved your name on my back!”

Zoro falls silent for a moment, “yeah,” he sighs wistfully, “did you like it?”

Without thinking it through –and why should he? Suicides aren’t supposed to be planned– Sanji strangles himself with his bare hands hoping his tongue would block his trachea when he falls unconscious. The flashlight falls from his hand and lands harshly on the old plank, lolls to the side when Sanji crumbles to his knees and lands shoulder-first.

 

He wakes up to a face beaded with perspiration and a pair of terrified eyes peering down at him –the revenant. Zoro is looking scared? Now this is a moment to behold. Sanji fights past the hazy vision to focus on what Zoro is shouting.

“You hear me,” he snarls, “Your life is mine, you bastard. It’s the final rule. You have no right to end your life without my permission. If you do something like this again, I’ll make sure to bring you back and hurt you to the point you’re gonna want to die again, but you won’t, ‘cause I won’t let you.” He is barking by the last sentence.

This is what Sanji’s been resuscitated for, to hear more threats? In that case, he’ll just go back to being unconscious. At least, that way, he’ll be doing something to shelve the torture that is sure to follow.

 

Tap, tap, tap...

Sanji groans awake.

Slosh.

He heaves a sigh as he puffs out his chest and straightens his back, but when he tries to stretch, he finds that his wrists are tied behind his back and that he is perched on a wooden chair.

“I never tire of watching that.” Zoro’s voice replaces the silence for a scary moment.

Sanji’s eyes dart to the man whose elbow is resting on the armrest of the settee just inches apart from the chair that has, obviously, replaced the mattress.

“That’s probably 'cause you’re a nut-job.” Sanji hisses, jerking his hands to untie the cord.

Zoro’s shoulders rock when he gives a small, taunting laugh. “I’m not the one who tried to kill himself.”

“Surprised you haven’t.” Sanji glares defiantly, corner of his lips furling up into a smirk.

Zoro wets his lips and folds his arms over his chest, “so what’s your theory?”

Sanji shrugs, “there’s no theory, you’re a complete maniac and that’s that, maybe a little schizophrenic too.”

“I don’t talk to myself or hear voices in my head.” Zoro counters, “So what’s your other therapeutic opinion?”

“You should probably check your epinephrine levels.” Sanji scoffs, humorlessly; “and while you’re at it, don’t forget to pass by a psych ward. I’m sure they won’t mind lending you a straightjacket.”

Zoro hums and nods, “I see.” He concludes, “epinephrine, huh?”

Sanji scrunches up his face, “Don’t tell me I’m about to hear a lecture about endogenous chemicals by the oh so amazing Roronoa Zoro, the psycho neurologist.”

“Even better,” Zoro chirps, “we’re going to witness a demonstration.”

Sanji peers up at the man.

Zoro, still smiling, takes out a small syringe from the pocket of his pants.

Sanji’s heart somersaults.

“I understand there hasn’t been much change of airs,” Zoro sidesteps the chair with the syringe in a hand. “After spending months holed up in this room, I bet you’re starting to feel stuck in a rut. I would.” He suddenly comes to a standstill, “but I told you before, many times already, this is your home now,” he says through gritted teeth, “stop plotting jailbreaks.”

“You’re not exactly giving me much option here, Zoro.” Sanji murmurs, eyes sliding to the corner, attentive for Zoro if he does stab that needle in his face, “calling it jailbreak isn’t going to make me stop.”

Zoro walks up to the backrest of the chair, and Sanji can’t see the man even if he cranes his neck. Heavy hands rest on Sanji’s shoulders, one holding the syringe. “Do you remember when I said I’d get my men on your friend if you attempted anything like trying to escape?”

Sanji’s mouth runs dry.

“I tried to avoid resorting to that, I really did, but you’re so caught up with trying to get away from this place, from me, and I think I’m fucking done trying to save your ass. It’d be very remiss of me to ignore it this time, you can’t dodge this one, Sanji, and your friend will bear the consequences of your selfish actions.” His hands, they squeeze Sanji’s shoulders.

Sanji shakes his head, “kill me,” he howls, voice resonating into the room and coming back to him, and he adds, calmer now, “you know I’d never be yours, even if you use my friend.”

Zoro returns to sit on the armrest of the settee, “Oh I’ll use him, and your parents, I’ll kill all of them,” he says on a dazzling smile, “until there’s just you left.”

There’s a numbness that is slowly wiggling its way to Sanji’s limbs, spreading out from his middle. A certain memory of Zoro never failing to keep his promises flashes before his wide, terrified eyes.

“P-please…” he mutters in almost a whisper.

Zoro cocks his head and gives a condescending smile.

“Please.” Sanji pleads again, showing his mouth open for a moment before gritting his teeth with apparent fear; tears that he didn’t know his eyes held roll down his pale cheeks.

To his astonishment, the smile Zoro gives him is more maniacal than he’s ever seen the man make before. He leans in a little closer, eyes glinting with something malicious, “why are you scared,” he inquires, voice deep and smoky, “when I’m already here.”

Sanji feels his breath leaving him, and his lungs are soon chasing after ever gulp of air, giving way to a full-fledged case of hyperventilation to hit him like a tide of raging waves.

Zoro hushes him gently, bringing a hand to Sanji’s cheek and the other he uses to inject his arm with the aforementioned syringe. Sanji’s sobbing and panting noises turn into low groans as warmness, odd and intense, spreads inside of him, riffling and warring within without mercy. He throws his head to the back, eyes roll under his lids and images of what happened in the woods reappear as his senses dull. If only he grew tame and deify Zoro, consented to his commands, none of this would have happened. And soon, there's a strangled and garbled sound down his throat before he parts his lips and lets loose a feral scream.

Zoro unties Sanji’s wrists and stands before him, just waiting, watching with rapt how Sanji, as soon as he is freed from the shackles, pounces Zoro’s lips. The latter indulges him, kissing him back and moaning into the reckless kiss, teeth and noses knocking together. Sanji pushes the other down on the settee and immediately straddles his lap, crotch grinding against Zoro’s, who lets go of a low rumble in response.

 

After Zoro left the room, leaving Sanji half naked and slumped on the settee, Dracule walks in, but unlike any other times, he wakes Sanji up with a wary look in his eyes.

“Sanji,” Dracule shakes him by the forearms, “wake up, come on, wake up!”

Sanji, groggy and sexed out, lets his head loll to the side, doesn’t open his eyes until Dracule shakes him hard again. “What now?” he grumbles, jadedly.

“We need to leave here!” he hollers, lifting Sanji up and crouching to lift his pants up next.

“No,” Sanji mumbles, “I don’t want a repeat of last time. I don’t trust you.”

Dracule straightens up and fixes Sanji with a strange look, “he trusts me now.” He says, “Roronoa trusts me.”

Sanji creases his eyebrows in response.

“Look, he didn’t use to be like this. It all happened after Hancock showed up at the doors of this clinic.” He tells him, fumbling over his pockets for something. He takes out a handkerchief and tosses it to Sanji, “after he collapsed the other night, I decided I’ve had enough. Something isn’t right.”

“You think?” Sanji scoffs, taking the handkerchief and bowing a little to see between his legs, feeling his body heavy from the waist down. After Dracule looks away, Sanji wipes his inner thighs and mumbles something about Zoro coming a lot inside of him.

Dracule finally faces Sanji and flares his nose, “I’ll get you out. I can deal with the men who brought you here, and I hope Zoro doesn’t suspect anything until I’ve dealt with Hancock.”

“Deal with Hancock, how?” he asks, following suit after Dracule headed to the door.

“Do you remember when you and your friend escaped?” he inquires, and doesn’t wait for an answer, “do you remember how he was?”

Sanji can’t exactly forget that even if he wants to.

“When he’s upstairs, he doesn’t remember anything about spending half of his time with you, but when he’s here, he remembers everything about his life up there.” He cranes his neck outside the door, scans the hall and forges forward when no one shows up, assured that Sanji is walking closely behind, “I inspected Hancock had something to do with it, the fact that Roronoa’s mood changes every time she’s around. I realized something, when you ranted on the other day, something you said, it’s the same thing Hancock says to him sometimes.” He stops and looks up, “there are no cameras around because she doesn’t want Zoro to find out about this place when he’s lucid” he suddenly turns around, facing Sanji again, “you know what hypnosis is?”

Sanji’s eyes widen.

“I looked up Hancock’s files, she’s a hypnotherapist. She’s had Roronoa hypnotized ever since she stepped foot into this place, and he doesn’t know. He won’t listen to someone like me either.”

“Hypnotized?” Sanji almost laughs, “But how is that even possible. He isn’t usually dripping balls when he’s raping me silly, how can someone be so evil and not remember?”

“Believe what you want,” Dracule tells him after a pause, “I’m taking you out of here, but once you leave, don’t look back. Go to your family, tell them about Zoro’s men and leave everything behind.” He advises, “Don’t stop until you’ve left by a good hundred miles.”

And that is a tempting idea. “What about Zoro?”

Dracule lowers his head, “knowing him, the truth will most likely kill him.” He says, now his eyes do a stupid glint that deceives Sanji with something like hope and care which he no longer trusts are there. “He is a brilliant doctor, he saves lives.” He starts, “I’ve worked for his family since I was a kid, looked after him ever since, and he’s never been this aggressive. Something must have happened that changed him, and I know the answers I’m seeking Hancock has them.” He determines, “I’ll deal with her first, cut off the head of the snake, right? Hopefully, with her gone, his ‘dark’ side will be gone as well.”

Sanji has the good grace to look a little cowed by the revelation at least and, for a fragment of a second, he is suddenly beset by doubts.

“I know it’s not gonna cut it, but I’m sorry for everything.” Dracule’s features contort apologetically.

“You’re right,” Sanji grits out, “it’s not gonna cut it.”

“I wish you’d met him under better circumstances. The real Roronoa Zoro.” He sighs until his chest lifts up and falls. “You haven’t missed the train, Sanji, go back to your family, to your life. You still have time to start over, many didn’t.” Saying so, Dracule turns around and walks away.

 

That’s it?

‘Go back to you life’, what kind of half-assed speech is that? And Dracule couldn’t look a little more emphatic for him? And sorry, for what, for allowing Zoro a better playground by keeping his mouth shut about every possible kind of torture Sanji had to undergo, or about Zoro’s insanity and his regal forebears’ whom must have been the pioneers of those woods. Gosh, just how many people have they killed so far! –tortured and... . Sanji’s entire body heats up: damn it, he can even feel little remnants of cum slowly sliding down his inner thighs. So all those times Zoro did whatever he wanted with Sanji, is because he was hypnotized to do it. Is this the joke of the century or what. You can’t just go about, hunting down humans for a hobby, peel off their skin for sheer pleasure and then blame it on hypnosis. –Sanji’s hands ball up into fists by his hips– you can’t just spend that much time, confined with someone for hours, brag about owing them, loving them… and not remember.

There it is the door to Sanji’s freedom, the thing he’s always been jonesing for.

Yet why does it look so far away.

 

His feet shuffle, undecided about the direction they want to carry him to, they stomp towards the doors but soon come to a sudden halt and draggle towards the direction Dracule disappeared to instead.

He can’t leave just yet.

Just like Dracule is looking for answers, Sanji also wants them, and he wants them now. –his body collides with someone else’s and Sanji recoils to the back, wincing as the movement jars his injuries. They’re still so ripe he can smell them.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The deep, velvety voice –Sanji snaps his eyes up to the man before him, his own widening with shock and horror. Maybe this time Zoro will give the order, maybe he will finally decide he’s had enough of Sanji and have him killed in the worst possible way. Maybe his psychopathic love was merely an infatuation and those don’t last.

“I gotta be honest with you,” he says, smiling thinly. “I think I deserve to know what’s going on with you.” He starts, “you can’t just show up a second time in my clinic looking like you’ve survived a train crash and expect me not to ask questions.”

Sanji’s mind goes blank.

Dracule wasn’t lying… the void-faced bastard wasn’t lying.

Zoro, dressed in a lab coat and holding a couple of yellow files, furrows. “Ah-huh,” he says, swinging his index ‘no’ and closing the distance between them, “that’s the face you made last time before you squawked your lungs out.”

“Zoro.” Sanji’s hand goes up to clutch Zoro’s.

The latter tilts his head a little and smiles, “it’s Doctor but sure, at least we’re getting to something if you’re starting to talk.”

Sanji shakes his head sideways, “listen to me.” He squeezes Zoro’s hand, desperately, yet his voice holds no argument. “Hancock, the hypnotist, she’s been controlling you, Zoro. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for you because you’ve been a complete jackass to me,” he holds Zoro’s look, and doesn’t even blink when he discloses the truth, “she hypnotizes you to torture and kill people. There’s a dungeon underground where you keep them, it’s where you’ve been keeping me this whole time.”

Zoro’s smile falls and he takes an unconscious, faltering step to the back, trying very faintly to retract his hand from Sanji’s. “I think you should leave.” He concludes, wets his dry throat and sighs attentively. “It’s fine. I won’t charge you or anything, just, please, leave.”

Sanji curses under his breath, letting go of Zoro’s hand to take off his shirt. He turns around, baring his back to the man, “you engraved your name on me a few nights ago, Zoro,” and it still pulsates like a bad throb. “I can even show you the dungeon where you keep your pets, and how do you explain the scar on your face? Look, there’s a ton of evidence if you want to debate this but we don’t have time.” When he turns around, Zoro is pale and ashen faced. “Dracule went to face Hancock about all this, but he’s gonna need our help.”

“Dracule?” he echoes, disbelievingly, “Mihawk Dracule?”

Sanji nods, “he’s had enough of cleaning up after you,” he explains, “tonight he said he was going to deal with your psycho therapist to put the lid on your dark side.”

The files in Zoro’s hand fall to the tiled floor, and he slowly totters rearward, landing on the wall behind.

Sanji walks up to him, “we don’t exactly have time for this, Zoro.” He bellows, “I need to ask you something, alright?”

Zoro’s pupils are trembling so fast Sanji isn’t sure the man is taking in anything right now, but he asks anyways.

“Do you know why she did this to you?”

Zoro surprises him when he shakes his head, “God,” he groans, “all those dreams that I’ve been having lately, that’s real?” he looks into Sanji’s eyes, awe-stricken and scared, like a little kid. “And your body,” he doubles over, retching, but nothing comes out, “I did that?”

Whatever glint was left in Sanji’s eyes, goes out. “Yes, you did this to me” he deadpans, “you killed my friends and had your minions torture them, just like you tortured me.”

Zoro’s heaving stops and his entire body goes still.

“My ass is still crammed with your cum , Zoro.” He brings a hand to his abdomen, strokes it in sensual motions. “We fucked so hard in my cell just half an hour ago.”

Zoro’s lump pops along his throat when he looks up, beholding Sanji’s body in such an unsettling silence. And so out of the blue, he shoots past Sanji, making his way to the stairs. Sanji, for the first time, feels so alive. He’s finally reciprocated the favor and Zoro will never be the same –tortured by his own dreams, that’s inconsequential, but these reminders, Zoro will relive the hell he’s hauled Sanji down to.

Zoro leads them to a door with a nameplate that reads Boa Hancock; he rams it open and walks in, Sanji in tow. Hancock looks up from her desk, wide eyes bewildered. She entwines her fingers over the open files she has on her desk and smirks.

“Decided to bring your playground upstairs?” Her smirk deepens, “I have to say, that’s a little stretching it, even for you.”

“You whore.” Zoro snarls, and watches with fury how she drops her smirk and stumbles to her feet. He scurries to her side but she backs away, terror seizing her. “You had me hypnotized for your own amusement!”

She doesn’t deny anything and Sanji can see how Zoro wants to tear himself out of his body.

“Why!” Zoro exclaims with a roar, his voice almost cracking.

She shrugs, “because I can?” she says, “just for funs you and I played a little game a while back, and I had you profiled. You were still shaken by the death of your parents and I offered you a way out, you didn’t refuse.” she explains, “in one of the psychology tests I gave you, you showed high chances of personality disorder, and I used it for my academic research.”

Sanji, even liking the look of horror on Zoro’s face, he can’t stop that side of him that feels anger on Zoro’s behalf. To have his mind screwed around with like a guinea pig, he’s one unlucky son of a bitch.

“You permitted the hypnosis session to help you forget your parents’ death,” she elaborates, “and I took the liberty to uncage that side of you that has been dying to be released for a long, long time.”

Zoro fists his hand and punches the desk, not caring if it cracked his knuckles, “are you kidding me?” he bawls, “I killed people, I tortured them…” he stares wide-eyed at a spot on the desk, as though finally realizing something that, by the looks if it, horrifies him. “I raped him.”

Sanji flinches under the pair of eyes now staring at him.

The door flings open again as Dracule walks in, covered in cuts and blood, he takes in the scene for a moment before slumping down face-first. Sanji retreats away from the body, his eyes glancing at Zoro and then back at the door as two men, the machete guy and the bowman, walk in, brandishing their weapons about.

“Nebula.” Hancock mutters on a smirk.

And then all the pieces fall together and Sanji finally sees the image that’s been kept under veil all this time. The key word, the thing that connects Zoro to his sanity, a single word that –Sanji grits his teeth– has a lot of people killed horrendously. When he looks Zoro’s direction, he knows what he’s going to find, but he is not scared to see it.

“Love~” Zoro drawls, playfully.

Sanji holds his ground, he wants to scoot out of that open door, he wants to so bad, but he won’t.

Zoro saunters towards Sanji’s direction, “what in the blue hell are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Sanji smirks, “but then again, you probably won’t remember.”

Zoro tilts his head like a confused dog, “I asked you a question, San”

Sanji, for the part of being wise, scuffs his feet to the back.

“He’s been defying your orders and going about causing your men trouble,” Hancock provides in his stead, “Can you please see to his rebellion.”

Sanji glares at her and switches to look at Zoro, who is already palming out his hand to send a slap across Sanji’s cheek, but he didn’t survive months of unrelenting agony and made it out of that cell to eventually fall victim to Hancock’s ploys, that’s not how he’ll go down. “Zoro,” he says in a small voice, gentle, caring.

Zoro’s open hand stops mid air.

“I defied you by leaving my room, I admit to it.” He says, “But if I really wanted to leave, I wouldn’t still be here. Dracule came to me for help, you understand? Zoro, I’m not your enemy, she is. She’s done things to your head, and she’s had you fooled all this time.”

“Nonsense!” Hancock blares her nose, “Zoro is my coworker,” she declares, “I’d never do something so out of the line like that.”

Zoro quirks a smile, “she’s more convincing.”

Sanji swallows hard, hoping to ease the sharp stab of envy piercing his stomach. And in a moment of prolonged silence, he reevaluates his choice of words, because it could be his last.

“I don’t want to go back downstairs,” he admits, eyes slowly beholding Zoro’s after the latter mutters a ‘you’ve made that plenty clear’, “but I don’t want to leave you either.”

“I’m listening.” Zoro intones and ushers to Hancock to keep quiet when she interjected to say something.

“What I want is to walk under the sun with you side by side,” he says, “it’s tearing me apart to say this but I realized that, no matter how hard I try to leave here, I can’t bring myself to whenever I remember my time with you.”

Zoro narrows his eyes slightly at his captive.

“Zoro, let’s leave here. I want us to be together away from all these people.” He pleads, now dashing forward to take Zoro’s lips in his, “I love you.” He whispers through swollen lips, his eyes now look into Zoro’s, and for a terrifying moment, he almost believes his own act because the look in Zoro’s eyes has too much love, harbored for him and only him. “I want to be with you forever.”

In a remarkable second, Zoro spins around and steals the machete from its owner’s scabbard, stabbing his chest with it. The bowman jumps back, outside the room, draws his bow and arrow and shoots it Zoro’s way, hitting his knee. Zoro cries out and falls down to his other knee, cradling the one injured. The bowman brings another arrow, this one he sets its head on fire before he shoots it.

“Zoro!” Sanji calls out “watch out!”

Zoro dodges the flaming arrow coming his way, allowing it to go past him and land inside on Hancock’s desk and the papers immediately go aflame. Hancock seizes the moment of everyone’s distraction to flee the scene, uncaring about perfecting the plan anymore. When Sanji tries to go after her, his ankle is caught by Dracule. He demurs after whipping his head at his direction, wanting to ignore him but Dracule is the one who helped him out of the room so he owes the man this much, and he doesn’t want to be owed, especially not by someone like Dracule.

“The patients,” the man in pain coughs out, “Take them out.”

Sanji takes in the fight scene and then he looks at Dracule again.

“Please,” he begs, blood now seeping through his lips, “this room doesn’t have a fire alarm. The fire’s not going to stop and the patients might get hurt, please.”

“What about you?”

“I’m done for.” Dracule sighs, slowly closing his eyes, “Gonna nap here.”

For a mere psycho’s minion, Sanji thinks Dracule went down like a badass. He lingers enough for a final momentary look before he runs down the hallway, coming to a small red box hooked to the wall. He breaks its glass with his elbow –he’s already covered in cuts, what’s one more. He pulls down the fire alarm and dashes to the first door to his right, wrenches it open and moves on to the next, until he’s opened all the doors and can see now patients rushing out of their cacophony of bed sheets and morpheme. Sanji guides them out like a scout boy, he helps the ones who can’t walk to their wheelchair and asks the ones who can to take them along.

When the fire reaches the other rooms, Sanji wonders why the smoke detectors aren’t spraying any water but Hancock’s disappearance kind of gives him the answer he wanted. Speaking of the Spawn of Satan, he catches sight of Hancock rushing to the direction of the surgery room. Sanji doesn’t waste any time and springs after her, he spots a plant stand, breaks it on his knee in a half and uses them to lock the handles of the door after finding her inside skimming through papers for something. Hancock soon clouts a hand to the opaque round window of the door, the grids on the glass masking most of her face.

“How’s that feel, you slut?” He beams, maniacally. No obscenities can soothe his anger but he feels the bells of winning ring like a blessing. “Not so good, is it? And you know what, I’m not even done yet.” He chirps, using the sharp end of the other piece of the stand to cut his arm and uses the blood, which soon oozes out, to paint letters on the vast white door. “No one’s going to approach this door now, have fun getting grilled.”

When he faces away, he finds that the smoke is a sea of mist by now and he can feel the lack of oxygen granting him short vision and dizziness. He covers his mouth with a hand and coughs into it, forges between the smoke clouds wafting into the space, looking for Zoro.

The flames have eaten most of Hancock’s desk when Sanji gets to it, he finds Zoro crouching over the bowman’s body just beside it, his form hazy with all the smoke.

“Zoro!” Sanji calls out, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the smoke rushes into his lungs and he coughs into the nook of his elbow again.

Zoro lifts off the body and reels around, face splattered with blood. He cuts his eyes up at Sanji –dead eyes that make him feel like he could drown with no chance to float back up to the surface. “He’s gone.”

Sanji nibbles at his bottom lip, doing his hardest to keep from turning around and running with his tail between his legs. “I know.” He tells him, winces when the smoke layers thicken. “Let’s just leave.”

Said man walks up to him, shoulders drooped and jaw slack. “I need to find her.”

“She’s not a problem anymore, Zoro. I locked her up in the surgery room.” Sanji beseeches now, “Let’s get outta here too, please.”

Zoro shakes his head in a way that says it’s too late and Sanji fucking hates it. He brings a hand to Sanji’s nape, pulls him closer to knock their foreheads together and closes his eyes, a thumb stroking his nape. “I don’t belong out there, Sanji” He says, eyelids slowly parting open, “You have to go.”

Sanji shakes his head reluctantly, not wanting to break off the physical contact because, for the first time in so many months, Zoro is holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the entire world.

Zoro’s hand gives another squeeze, as though memorizing the feeling of Sanji’s skin under his fingertips because it’d be his last. He lets go just as sudden and pushes Sanji away, “Go!” he hollers, a hand pointing at the direction of the stairs.

Sanji’s feet move on their own accord, but he can’t find the strength in him to look away from Zoro, as if he did, Zoro’s body would evaporate into million smoke particles, to never regenerate again. The smog condenses and what’s beyond blurs, and Zoro’s shape slowly fades away, just like Sanji feared, taking all the nightmares with him.

 

Sanji runs and runs, and runs like hell hounds are after him, leaving nothing but the flames, the pain and Zoro behind. And he doesn’t stop until a police SUV blares its honk at him, headlights flashing in his eyes like the fluorescent tubes back in the roof of his cell. Blue and red lights spin in the open and Sanji looks around as the vehicle pulls over the lane. He is on the same road their van died at, but this time he is all by himself.

“Sir?” a red-hair male officer heads his way, flashlight in a hand and the other on the hostler of his gun.

Sanji faces him with a glassy look in his eyes.

The taller young man becomes more alert, “we’ve received a call about a house fire,” he informs, and when he tries to add something, Sanji cuts him off.

“Clinic,” he corrects, pupils traveling to the unending length of the sky, “not house –that place is not a house” he mutters. He becomes more focused and looks at the officer, “did you get everyone out in time?”

The officer nods, “the firefighters are doing their best, sir.” he comes closer, cautiously, “I’m Deputy Eustass Kid, can I ask you a few questions?” he asks, and when Sanji nods absentmindedly, the deputy ushers him to the car, “please get inside the car first, let’s get you out of here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A kudos a day will make Keit Meg thrilled. ;D


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

“Sushi, man, that stuff is expensive, you sure you don’t want to come?” Luffy petitions, brown puppy eyes of doom doing that little glint which drives away the rejections Sanji always has ready up his sleeves, but maybe not today. 

Sanji’ mouth fumbles into a small smile. “I’m not an expert by a long shot, but I’m pretty sure raw fish isn’t my idea of a healthy dinner meal,” he says, blithely. He folds another one of his plain shirts and stacks it in the drawer of his wardrobe. “It’s okay, man, you and Shira deserve some downtime to unwind, besides, Dad’s shift ends soon and we kind of already made plans.”

“You’ still stuffing his guts with rabbit food?”  Luffy gives his friend a shit-eating grin.

Sanji lifts an index in warning, “veg sandwiches,” he corrects, now slumping on his bed, allowing it to bounce and bring him up and down with the brunt of his weight. “I’m worried about his cholesterol level, dude, am I the only one who acknowledges the sublime dangers of that?”

Luffy raises placating hands, “whatever you say, man.” He says on a smarmy chuckle, which soon falters, his hands slowly collapsing by his sides, “what about tomorrow?”

Sanji’ pupils blow wide at his friend, jaw clenches.

Luffy scoots a little closer to the bed. He’s been standing by the door the entire time, watching Sanji bustles about in his room, and he’s been meaning to bring this up at some point but he isn’t usually very subtle when it comes to poking at old wounds, so he guessed the best way to approach this without having Sanji recoil from the talk altogether was by bringing it up in the middle of a talk. “Mr. and Mrs. Nico are coming tomorrow,” he informs, “mom heard it from a nurse.”

Sanji looks away from his friend, eyes catching sight of a bird flying by his window, “I’m not going.”

Luffy’s chin meets his chest. He lets loose a shaky breath before looking back up at Sanji, “It’s been four years, Sanji, people already moved on from the rumors, found something new to gossip about.”

“Lu,” Sanji’ stare aims his friend’s, “some people just take more time to move on, I happen to be a walking example.” He confesses, “Going to a cemetery where no bodies are buried is not going to numb the pain of loss away,” he interlaces his fingers together but soon untwines them, “they’re wasting their time.”

Luffy ducks his head in surrender. “They find consolation.”

“I’m happy for them,” Sanji snorts, unable to rein in a chuckle. “Personally, I just can’t bring myself to find solace at the bottom of an empty casket buried six feet under.”

“Sanji” Luffy says in stiff reproach.

“No, Lu,” the other shoots up from his bed, “no” he repeats it in an attempt to control the retort that wants to come out as a shout. “Standing at empty graves is not how I want to honor their memory. I don’t see a point in going there when all I’d get is the reproaching looks and a big fat dredge-up of the crap I went through, and that’s not something I want to live through tomorrow. Or any other day. In fact, I’m pretty much against the whole idea of reliving all of that when I have the chance to avoid it.”

“Boys?”

Luffy and Sanji whip their faces towards the door, finding the sheriff in official garment rooted to the threshold with wrinkles marring his forehead.

“Something wrong?” he demands, keeping the level of his tone as soft as he can.

“Nothing, Dad” Sanji assures, hurriedly, “Luffy was just telling me about his date with Shirahoshi” –he switches to look at his friend now, on cue– “who must be waiting, by the way.”

Luffy holds eye contact with him for a prolonged pause before nodding and turning away, he greets Mr. Vinsmoke and vacates the house in a huff.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” His father narrows his blue eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

Sanji dismisses it with a flick of his wrist, “Just Luffy being Luffy, no big deal.”

“Well that sounded a lot like a big deal to me.” His father admits, now leaning on the frame of the door, “you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Sanji sighs jadedly and flops on his bed again, “he asked me to go to the cemetery tomorrow, told him I wasn’t ready.”

The penetrating gaze his father donned has tenderized by now. He lifts his shoulder off the door frame and walks inside, hands sliding into the side pockets of his pants. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Sanji flails a hand, motioning at the main direction of the door, “and it’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just not really up for it. I’ll go when I’m ready.”

His father nods in agreement, and then gives a pointed look, “look, since it’s the anniversary it’s going to be all over the place, and you know how the townspeople like to gossip,” he starts, heedful of his word, “so if you want out, I can send you somewhere nice. I mean until the storm dies out.”

Sanji’ gaze meets the floor, “nah,” he scrubs his face with a hand before looking up, “I finally finished my practicum to get home and spend time with you and mom. I don’t want to hightail it outta town and give people something to chat about.”

His father nods, eyes peering at the crown of his son’s head since Sanji’ lowered his head again, “Sounds fair,” he comments, “and, Sanji?”

The said man looks up.

“If you ever want to talk…” He leaves it up to Sanji to fill in the black with the hint.

Sanji chortles, bemused, “And save me the stagnating hours I get to spend listening to Dr. Hiluluk reciting The Psychopathology of Everyday Life?” he says, “Not a chance.”

Mr. Vinsmoke chuckles but restates what he said, “I mean it, son. I’m here, always.”

Sanji presses his lips on one another and nods, “I know, Dad, thank you.”

 

The first time Luffy asked him to show up at the cemetery and Sanji refused, Luffy took him in a bone-crashing hug and left it at that. The second time Luffy asked and Sanji turned his offer down, Luffy patted his shoulder. Third time he only smiled ruefully and nodded.

Now, anniversary or not, Luffy, usually, stomps off in a huff.

Sanji cannot humor anyone.

 

It was rough, coming back from the hell he went through, facing his friend who, just like the man from his nightmares had once said, had managed to move forward. And then, and this one was the most grueling of all, giving his statement after that deputy brought him back to Germa’s sheriff station.

Sanji found out that while they had been fighting for their lives in the woods, chased down by mad men and hunted down like animals in hunting seasons, their families here left no stone unturned. Sent out rescue teams, resorted to media and contacted private investigators. Usopp’s mother even went to oracles in hopes to spot her only child. Of course, if it worked, Usopp would still be alive. Sanji still remembers, in vivid details, the explosion that sent his body into debris.

Luffy tried to get him to open up, more than an occasion, nudging him, patting his back and even operating his trademark puppy-eyes of doom on him, but Sanji couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to recount what happened after Luffy left, knowing it’d break the man. After all, he did leave thinking Nami had died.

Sanji took the year he came back off, spent it relocating from home to hospital, recuperating.

 

Most of his wounds and injuries, internal and external, have healed beautifully. His infections were treated soon and antibiotics worked wonders on fighting them. His battered face made the most astounding recovery. The only problem was his back.

 

It seemed that, yet again, Zoro, even in his death, had outplayed Sanji.

 

The carvings on Sanji’ back took too long to be treated as it was, but Sanji found out that the reason his wounds weren’t healing was because the scalpel Zoro had used to cut his skin had been dipped in either raw onion or garlic juice, making it hard for the platelets to coagulate, thus resulting in permanent scars that could only be removed surgically, and that’s something Sanji didn’t opt for.

So until now, Zoro’s full name stays engraved on his skin.

 

A murder, the entire Roronoa family was murdered while the youngest son, Roronoa Zoro, had been studying abroad, leaving him under the care of his only remaining relative, his Godfather Dracule Hawkins. It was never officially stated –the cause of the murder, but many analysts suspected it had something to do with conspiracy theories going sideways. Zoro returned to his family’s house in Shimotsuki after graduating to set up shop, and it had been sailing smoothly until a cyclone called Boa Hancock clashed at his door. 

After Sanji gave his statement, the sheriff went to great lengths to cover up his son’s name and identity, to protect him, and the protocol didn’t deny him that. But the townspeople were becoming even more troublesome with their meddling so Sanji flew back to his university, escorted by an officer his father appointed, to finish his studies.

It’s probably useless to mention his father’s protectiveness increasing after Sanji made it back to the town. Luffy was no different either. Always calling, and never failing to leave him text messages on his phone. And it’s safe to say that after his return, Sanji never trusted easily. As for going beyond the customary greetings, Sanji still has that listed under never-in-a-million-years.

 

It wasn’t easy, Dr. Luk, his shrink, keeps telling him.  And although he admits so himself, he doesn’t know if it’s really about just that, or, maybe, there’s something else. Actually, there’s always something else. When he tells him about the nightmares that hunt him still, he says it’s normal, even him literally screaming himself awake. The doctor says his panic attacks are the manifestation of his inner fears and doubts, and that, with all things considered, are normal.

But when Sanji told him he’d been masturbating to the scarred name on his back for a while now, the doctor ascribed it to frustration.

 

And that is what something else is.

 

Sanji doesn’t go to the cemetery because he can’t face the people who died because of Zoro, and he doesn’t go with Luffy because he can’t face his best friend when he remembers the nights he spends, moaning, with his mind filled with Zoro’s face and hands.

He hates himself. He loathes it with all the passion Zoro couldn’t burn away, but he can’t stop. He tried a few times, but he just couldn’t what with his mind wandering ways he never thought possible and distracters not doing as effective job as he predicted they would. It’s unfair to his friends, it’s unfair to Usopp who blasted off into specks of ash, and it’s unfair to Robin who got beheaded, or Nami who died by his own hands.

 

“Starting day will be on September, but I’m leaving early, probably in late August, you know, to settle down, commingle.” Sanji tells his father, now taking another bite of his turkey club, eyes flecking about the interior of the busy restaurant.

“But isn’t it a little early, I mean you only finished your practicum recently,” his father worries his brows, creasing them over a marred forehead. “Applying for a job so soon”

“That’s usually how it works, dad.” Sanji informs on a thin smile, “Besides, I think I’m ready to come out of my shell. I can’t do that holed up in my room.”

His father nods, albeit tentatively. “Did you tell Luffy about any of this?”

Sanji doesn’t look up when he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll leave him a postcard.”

“Sanji” His father heaves out a sigh, dropping his sandwich back on the dish.

Said man’s eyes lift up, landing on his father’s.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two but I know  _something_  is going on,” he starts, “now I might not understand but I know for a fact that Luffy cares about you.” He reminds with the look in his eyes relenting, “and you need to know that if there are things you can’t tell me, Luffy is your exception.”

“I can’t.” Sanji deadpans, now forgetting about his food and leaning back on the backrest of the chair, shoulders deflating, “I can’t tell him. I can’t tell  _you_.”

His father perks up, honed expression showing his concern, “what’ you mean, son?” he asks, “what’ you mean you can’t tell us?”

Sanji faces away for a second, curled bottom lip sliding between rows of teeth, “nothing,” he mumbles before looking back at his father, “I applied for a school in Shimotsuki, dad. They had a spot for a counselor and I said I’d take it.”

“Shimot…” his father echoes in dismay before levering up to his feet, rigid with anger, “so out of the question, son, you’re not going back there.”

Sanji breathes out a bitter sigh, “I didn’t want to say anything about this job because I knew you’d be against it, and could you please sit down? You’re making a scene.” After his father sits down with a muttered ‘you bet your ass I’m against it’, Sanji meets his eyes, “Look, dad,” he resumes, “Dr. Luk said that if I wanted to defeat my demons, I’d had better face them.”

“We’re changing him,” his father grouches.

Sanji’ smile is now fond, “no, we’re not.” He tells him, absentmindedly scrubbing at his spiky stubble with his knuckles, “in fact, I’d like to end the therapy.”

His father gazes at him searchingly, “and what’s with the bright attitude all of a sudden, Sanji, you’re not doing any drugs, are you?”

Sanji chortles a laugh between a stutter and a chuckle, “Actually I am,” he confesses, “Dr. Luk gets quite the inspiration once her hand starts scribbling away on a prescription paper.”

Older Vinsmoke nods and mirrors his son’s beam, smiley eyes getting overcome by wrinkles.

“I’ll be fine, dad.” Sanji says when the other isn’t expecting it, “It’s gonna be hard to swallow at first, but hey, I’m a survivor,” he survived worse, “I’ve got this.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I’ll make sure to tell you, I promise.” He leans forward now to tap his father on the shoulder, “Three years at the shooting range won’t be for nothing. I can take care of myself, pops, don’t grow grey hair over this.”

 

*******

 

Shimotsuki’s luster summer faded, and crisp fall rolled over, announcing the opening of a new year. It’s been two months since Sanji moved out of his father’s house, but being an early riser, hustling himself out on errands with a mouth running quicker than his brain, he blended in easily.

He’s been counseling only a few students; it’s a relatively small town, smaller than Germa town. So it’s no surprise if the waiting room outside his office is usually very empty, but as long as it doesn’t affect his paycheck, Sanji is content. He is keeping regular contact with his father. Even Makino, Luffy’s mother, calls in from time to time to check on him. His neighbors are nice peoples and the landlady only shows up at the beginning of each month.

There is scarcely a detail in his new lifestyle that he is not content with, and it’s really the best life Sanji can ask for.

Except for the woods overshadowing the town…

 

It’s been a couple of months now and Sanji has been fighting the urge that resurfaces in the silence of the night to take his sky-blue jeep and drive towards those woods. He doesn’t know if ‘facing his demons’ is the header of his actions, or if it’s the ‘whacking-off’. Sanji isn’t frustrated, not sexually, that is. He went out on a few dates last year alone, actually with the same person. Don Rosinante, a sweet, thoughtful guy who never pushed Sanji for more than the sporadic kisses they shared here and there until Sanji gnawed it down with a ‘sorry, I can’t do this. You’re a great guy but I’m not ready for this’, and although Don took his lips in a forceful kiss then to prove his feelings, it only brought a nasty panic attack and Theo found himself apologizing and eventually acquiescing to Sanji’ decision.

 

October, the epitome of autumn, opens a new chapter, a new day for new life experiences to be acquired. Okay, maybe not today. It’s Friday so Sanji is lounging at a café, cheek propped on his palm and eyes looking out the window at his side, taking in the hazy light of the setting sun.

He vaguely remembers a waitress coming up to refill his cup and then disappearing behind the counter, he also remembers Luffy leaving him a thrashing in the voicemail for not returning any of his calls. He isn’t sure what makes up his mind when he fishes his phone out, lays it on the table and stares at it. It’s been months, and although he can’t bring himself to it, Luffy has a right to know. He taps at his number, looks up, gazing out at the far off tree rows before connecting the call.

“Sanji”

Said guy can practically see Luffy’s tail wagging.

“Hey, buddy.” He greets back, voice steady. “Got your voicemail.”

“Yea, about that” –Sanji hears the wince– “Didn’t mean to rip into you, but you weren’t giving me much choice.”

“Lu, I got it, man. Don’t sweat it.” He assures, taking a small sip of his coffee, “how’ve ya been? How’s Shira?”

“Good, been good, she says hi.” He tells him after a pregnant pause, “I’m more worried about you actually. Your dad told me you applied for a job in Shimotsuki. Wanted to head your way but Kureha’s not giving me a chance. But dude, what were you thinking?”

“Lu, I need to do this.”

“No, you don’t.” Luffy retorts, vehemently, “please, Sanji, just, go for somewhere else. You got accepted there, I’m sure you’ll get accepted somewhere else.”

Sanji shakes his head, realizing in a moment Luffy can’t see it. “I’ve already signed a contract, buddy, can’t undo that.”

Luffy exhales noisily, “well, are you okay? I mean it must be weird hanging around that place after everything. Do you need me to come? I got so worried when you stopped picking up my calls.”

“Yea, that was mean, sorry.” Sanji admits with a small voice, “It’d be great if I can see you all soon, but it’d be better if you don’t come here. It’s not like we have a good history with this town and coming here would only cause you pain.” He tells him, frantic with his words, “I need to do this so I can move on, that doesn’t mean you should do the same. It’s different.”

“I understand. I do.”

But…

“But why live there? You’d have just gone there a couple of times for whatever therapy you’re undergoing and be done with it.”

“Lu,” Sanji clears his throat with a quick swallow, “there are a few things that I can’t talk about now, and I know this feels like I’m keeping things from you but you gotta trust me on this.” He pleads, “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Luffy is silent for a long time after that and then he speaks, “If there’s something you’re not telling me to protect me then I can’t trust you on this, you already sacrificed one for me, you’re not doing it again.” He petitions, “So, Sanji, please, whatever’s on your mind just tell me.”

And Sanji, against his better judgment, tells him.

Tells him how Nami was alive when Luffy left, how he killed her, ‘rammed that knife right into her chest’ and ended her life. He tells him about the not-hypnotized Roronoa Zoro whose real story never made it to the papers since the police covered everything up with gas explosion so it wouldn’t wreak havoc among citizens. He tells him about Boa Hancock, and how he locked her up in the surgery room and left her to her demise.

And when he is done, Luffy is a crying mess, wailing Nami’s name and cutting off his own sobs with mumbled ‘I’m sorry’.

Sanji disconnects the call without a forewarning, not wanting to hear Luffy’s miserable keens anymore.

 

Later that night, Luffy sends him a text message, simply thanking him for telling him, nothing more, and nothing less.

 

The sun rises the next morning grazing over Sanji’ stiff limbs in peace, which bespeaks another day of chilling cold. He checks his phone for any new texts or missed calls and finds none. He showers and changes into his red plaid hoodie, dark jeans and red sneakers, and heads out to a diner for breakfast. When the clock hit nine and a half, Sanji got inside his bike and ides towards the woods.

He’s had an entirety of four years and a couple of months to think this over, and despite his doubts and fears, he’s finally decided if he really wanted an end to his nightmares, he’d better seek the cure inside these woods. Half an hour later finds him at the road Deputy Eustass picked him up. He pulls over, once the whir of the engine dies, the silence overtakes the space. He hears a few birds chirping, branches and shrubs rustling here and there. And for an overwhelming second where his memories collide, dizziness almost knocks him off balance but he holds himself by the handlebars of the bike, eyes squinting in the open.

 

Dry leaves crunch up under his boots as he trudges farther into the woods. A deafening, unsettling silence spreads around, gifting Sanji with a moment’s hesitation but he cuts right through it, wanting to reach the end of this chapter.

Not too long and he starts hearing the faint burble of water.

He follows it.

He comes upon a river, flowing from bank to bank. He guesses it’s a courtesy of yesterday’s sudden rainfall. A bird squeaks somewhere but the resonance resembles a scream, Sanji rotates around with eyes wide and wary. He walks by the river, head whipping at every ricocheting sound, until he reaches the small pond the cascades created, the pond he crouched inside while assured every one of his friends were just a few yards away, relaxing under the shade of the tree. 

So this is the cure?

This is how he will conquer his demons; banish them to the empty so he can have a good night’s sleep for once?

A twig snaps behind him.

Sanji swivels around so fast he is surprised at his own speed. All self-admiration seeps out when he finds a black-haired, bulky, scar-faced man in a leather jacket and tight jeans carrying an empty water jug and standing beside a log.

Blood rushes to Sanji’ ears, blaring off like a siren. The ground feels like it’s been wiped from underneath his soles, leaving only a hole in its wake. The thud of his heart beating vigorously in his ears is loud, oh God too loud.

Emerald eyes, jaded and dull, are looking back at him. Thick brows are slowly flying up in mild incomprehension.

“Sanji?” 

That voice: that deep, well-defined voice, and the rich velvetiness of its nuances that belong to Roronoa Zoro, and only Zoro.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Passive retching noises echo across the bathroom walls as Sanji, on his knees, spills the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. His fists clutch at the rim of the marble until blood leaves his knuckles. He heaves more gags, but eventually they reduce to mere spasms and shudders.

Sanji sags to the wall, face pale and drenched with sweat, fingers shaking after the exertion.

The memory of meeting the man from his nightmares creeps up on him again, vivid and detailed.

 

Roronoa Zoro stood there as though someone playing the clichéd villain had switched the time machine on and they were back to the day they’d met for the very first time. The only thing remotely different about the encounter was the horrifying memories connecting them now, and the only thing different about the man was the scar on his cheek which Sanji had afflicted.  

The man didn’t talk; he only looked Sanji’s way and soon averted his eyes.

Sanji’s chest rose up and down, lungs going after every speck of breath. He could feel every danger sensor in him going off-kilter, warning him about the psychotic terrors manifesting as a humanoid being walking his way. When he tried to move, he realized it wasn’t easy as his limbs had gone numb.

Another loud bird squeaks in the open, startling Sanji to his core. He remained motionless and completely still as the man treaded closer with every step, jug in hand. When he was only a stride’s length away from Sanji which the latter could see the scar as though through a magnifying glass, he quickly swept past him, the fresh smell of spruce wafting after him.

Sanji’s ears caught the noise of a deep surface getting filled with burbling water, and he guessed Zoro was now filling up the jug. That was his chance. Zoro was busy so he sprinted forward. Leaving the river and Zoro behind, and he ran and ran, sharp twigs scraping him in his frenzied run.

He didn’t stop until the bike came into view, parked askew by the dirt road.

 

He remembers riding his bike but doesn’t remember how he got here. All flashbacks from the killers’ chase came back to him when he stepped into his apartment and he scampered towards the bathroom to rid of the bile.

He opens his bleary eyes and inspects the tiled walls. The pungent stench of acid makes him grunt. He flushes the toilet and levers up by supporting himself on the sink. He rinses his mouth and finally leaves the bathroom.

The rest of the afternoon goes in a flash after Sanji plunges on his bed face-first, falling into a fatigue-induced slumber.

 

Heavy lids part open and whisky eyes meet the morning light streaming in from the window. Sanji turns on his back and faces the ceiling, blowing out a full-bodied sigh.

“What the hell was I thinking?” he berates himself.

He knows he risked a lot by going into the woods, but how was he supposed to know Zoro would be there as well? He genuinely thought Zoro died in the fire years ago. So what, the guy leapt out of the flames in the last second? Crawled out of the debris and been trudging inside these woods ever since?

Sanji scrubs his face with a hand.

 Zoro was carrying a metal jug. That means he needed a fresh source of water that he probably usually drinks from. It’s not that far-fetched, actually. If Zoro did survive the fire then he’d become hunted by the law, and he probably figured that out on his own which is why he’s skulking in the woods instead. But if he did figure it out, does that mean Zoro’s memories aren’t as wiped as he thought they were. Man used to act like he had no idea a keyword switched his gears on the psychosis. In fact, he’d believed in the life of the lovable neurologist who cared about the wellbeing of a complete stranger having a mental freak-out.

If he has his memories back, does he remember the things he’d done to people before Sanji crossed his path?

Sanji grips a fistful of his hair.

 Zoro remembered his name; he remembered Sanji.

And Sanji doesn’t know what to make of that.

He spent some nights in the past two years fondling himself at the memory of Zoro’s hands on him, sometimes gentle but other times rough… the phantom of a touch, just barely there accompanying the memory –his phone suddenly rings, rousing him from his monologue.

He stares at Luffy’s ID flashing in the screen of his phone, debating whether to pick the call or not knowing his friend is only calling for closure. He told him about the things he spent years keeping buried, but now that they were in the open, Luffy would give himself the liberty to ask, to inquire like it’s a fucking movie premiere he missed.

“’morning,” he mumbles, connecting the call eventually.

“You still in bed?” the other marvels, “dude, it’s eleven.”

“It’s Sunday.” Sanji counters.

Surprisingly, Luffy doesn’t try to coax answers out of him; he doesn’t even bring up any of the stuff he told him that day. Luffy only… chats.

 

Around two in the afternoon, Sanji dons his jacket and collects the keys to his bike, and with a face set in hard lines, he leaves his apartment.

The drive to the same dirt road doesn’t take him long, and by the time he reaches the same spot from yesterday, the sky is already veiled by gloomy clouds. He gets off his vehicle, removes his helmet and hooks it to the handlebars. He eyes the trees warily and marches ahead, following the same lane towards the river.

As the bushes clear out from his path, Sanji finally sees someone dressed in leather crouched by the river, a jug in hand. His steps almost falter halfway, but he wills his legs to move eventually, finally standing behind the man.

 Zoro fills up the jug to the brim and finally lifts up. He reels around and his dark eyes lock on Sanji’s.

 “What’ you doing here?” he inquires in his voice deep.

The question awakes something in Sanji, alertness, he assumes, and he refocuses.

“Roronoa Zoro,” he manages at last, “what the hell is this?”

Those thick brows come down into a deep furrow, “I’d ask you the same thing.”

Sanji gets his legs back under his control and moves a little forward, “you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Clearly, I’m not.” Zoro restates the fact.

“But… how?”

 Zoro attempts to walk past him again, but this voice in the back of Sanji’s mind urges him to act, do something –anything. Just get the man to explain. So as Zoro saunters past him, Sanji’s hand shoots out to the man’s elbow, pulling him so their eyes can see each other. But he didn’t count on the force with which he pulled the man, obviously unbalancing him and causing the jug in his hand to fall and clank on the ground. The two of them watch as the water spills to the soil, soaking it.

 Zoro wrenches his hand from Sanji’s hold and crouches down to pick his jug.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sanji grits, his eyes fuming with unexplainable rage.

 Zoro stands up again, bringing the jug up with him. “This is drinking water” he informed.

“I don’t care.” Sanji huffs, haughtily.

“I know you don’t.” Zoro shrugs.

Sanji narrows his eyes at the man in raw confusion.

“Go back” he orders, heavy-lidded eyes glaring back at Sanji.

Instead of recoiling to the farthest corner across the earth, instead of getting his bearings together and fleeing and instead of feeling dread to his very core, Sanji’s entire body heats up.

When he remained silent, Zoro returned to the river again.

“You told me you were going back to the fire. Did you eventually change your mind about dying?” Sanji asks, only his profile is facing Zoro.

 Zoro ignores him and watches with rapt as the water fills his jug.

“What the hell happened after I left, Zoro?” Sanji bellows, his words echo off the tree lines.

 Zoro straightens up to full length again, and this time, he doesn’t look Sanji’s way when he walks away again.

“Is that it?” Sanji scoffs after him, “you go from torturing me and raping me to ignoring me altogether?”

The statement brings Zoro to a stop, and the fucking anticipation that sears though Sanji at that is unbelievable. But Zoro soon mutters a brisk “Go home, Sanji.” Over his shoulder and walks away again.

 

 

A week, it has been a whole week since he met Zoro in the woods.

He’s not rooting for another reunion, God. After he came back home last Sunday, he had nightmares. It was a miracle he survived that night without sleeping pills. Only reason why he’s under the shower head facing the mirror is to reflect.

Last night, Zoro came to him in his dream.

He was lying in his bed when Zoro walked into the room, same room he is renting at this building. He was wearing a white dress shirt, and black trousers. He stomped his way to the bed firmly. The same footsteps that used to send Sanji to his demise back in that enamel-floored room. He climbed the bed, braced his arms on either side of Sanji’s middle and then leaned forward. Sanji looked up at him, the blank stare in Zoro’s eyes setting his alarms off. He felt his brows twitch in question when Zoro only continued to stare at him, but without a warning, the settings of the room changed. That’s where Sanji should have realized it was a nightmare; it was supposed to be a nightmare. However, the way Zoro had Sanji’s wrists strapped overhead, and his legs parted. The way he stroked his naked and flushed skin with the touch of a leather whip, and the way he toyed with Sanji’s body afterwards should all have been indications to a bad dream, but Sanji fucking liked it.

He stares horrified at the mirror.

He enjoyed it, and unlike his other dreams, this one felt more real, and more exhilarating.

The breath leaves his lungs starving, and he cups his mouth in an attempt to stifle in the anguished whimpers of disgust and fear, fear of what he might become. He’s always fought the idea. In the dread of the night, when worry awakes him, he always tried to envision himself as a better person, especially after what he’d undergone. Now, he was beginning to fret over the fact that, maybe, this madness is just meant to be.

 

As he stands by his bed, short towel on head, he scrolls down his messages. He finds a couple texts from his family, and from his school, about some -parent-teacher conference at 5, where they’ll be having moronic conversations.

Sanji was outspoken in his way of stating facts to Zoro, and he has this feeling in his guts that it did something to the man. Besides, all he said was utter the truth: Zoro was going from raping him and torturing him to ignoring him altogether. How is that a byproduct of an ordeal they went through together? Zoro had been played with, and Sanji and his friends were the victims –a few of others. You don’t ignore each other on the street after something so horrendous like that.  

He flings his phone on the nightstand, and the towel on the window sill. He put on his outdoor garments after eating his breakfast. He steps outside. The autumnal breeze races to his nostrils. He shudders at its chilliness and plunges his hands into the side pockets of his leather jacket. He didn’t take his motorcycle outside today because he will just take a stroll in the neighborhood. It’s a peaceful morning, and hopefully, the fresh air will clear his head from shadows holding him down, wanting, so badly, to encage his mind.

His converse shoes stomp on fallen, dry leaves. They crunch under his soles as he meanders his way through the narrow alleys. He passes by shops whose owners greet him with a wave of their hands. Sanji smiles charmingly and waves back, too.

 

He doesn’t even realize where his legs have taken him until he finds himself standing by the woods. Tall, naked trees swaying like giant, skeleton hands. Their rustle so eerie, and the resultant shudder that courses through Sanji is almost too daunting. He beholds the sight of rust-colored boles and leaf-strewn ground with wide, sparkly eyes –like he’s just found the gate to freaking Narnia. However, he knows that, deep down, only nightmares with pointy tentacles are skulking beyond.

As though to uncover the novel mystery, Sanji steps forward…

 

He ends up standing by the burbling river, hands still in pockets. He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t even bother to call out –it might have an undesired outcome anyway if a wolf hears his noise. He just stands there, like a ghost succumbing to its sad ending.

Another wind whooshes, moving the tree branches with it. The susurration echoes across the tree lines like spirits whispering about an impending occurrence. He hopes it’s a pleasant one, although trudging into the woods can’t possibly be pleasant when he knows Zoro hunted him here once.

 

When the clock hit three, Sanji looked up from his crouch at the darkened sky. As he attempts to lever up to his achy legs, a sound of bushes crackling piqued his attention. He lifts up very slowly with his head reeled to the direction of the noise. He waits.

A man in a knee-length, black coat, and bleached jeans and combat boots, holding a jug in a hand, heads Sanji’s way. He panics inwardly at first, because he’s seen that jug a couple of times by now, he knows to whom it belongs. He just can’t will himself to get over the fact that Zoro still showed up, even after last time’s mishap.

 Zoro stops a few feet away when he locks eyes with Sanji’s, but soon rolls his eyes. He averts his eyes and attempts to aim the water. Sanji watches with raw awe how Zoro, same as last time, and the time before it, brings up the jug to the cascades and fill it up with water.

“So,” Sanji begins, and he knows it’s the first intimation of a possibly one-sided conversation. “Going for normal? Is this your apple-pie life?”

As expected, Zoro ignores him.

Sanji feels irked at being ignored, and he decides to go for straight-to-the-point. “Do you remember last thing I said the other day?”

To his surprise, Zoro nods. It is carried on in a very slow motion, like he has neck cramps and nodding would aggravate his pains.

“Are you still going to ignore me, even though you and I went through all that together?”

 Zoro remains silent.

Sanji nods to himself, prompting it to reign in his anger. “Fine,” he hissed, “how about you just answer yes or no, then?”

 Zoro continues to fill up the jug.

“Do you remember what you did to me?”

 Zoro nods.

Sanji’s brow arch up in astonishment, he never imagined Zoro would go along with his request. “Okay,” he clears his throat, “Do you remember what Hancock did to you?”

 Zoro nods again.

“So you remember going back into the fire and not wanting to leave.”

“I do.” Zoro finally replies with words.

“Why are you still alive, then?”

“I got out of the house at the last second.” Zoro admits, “I guess I didn’t want to die, after all.”

“You said you deserved it.”

“It doesn’t mean I did.”

Sanji furrows at the back of the man’s head, “That makes no fucking sense, Zoro.”

“It does, to me.” The man replies, curtly.

The spirits murmur again as a persistent wind whooshes amongst the trees.

“Where are you staying now?”

“I cannot tell you that.” Zoro shrugged, now finally standing up to full length.

“Why not…?” Sanji demands.

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened four years ago.” Zoro admitted, “I left everything behind, including your memory. I don’t want to be dragged right back to that.” He slowly turns around. “You, being here, is bringing up bad memories, and I’m not very fond of that.”

Sanji’s furrow morphs into a harsh glare. “That’s rich coming from you, bastard!” He bellowed, now stepping closer to Zoro. “If there’s someone who has the right to say that, it’s gotta be me! You’re not very fond of me being here? Well, tough. I’m not going anywhere. I lived months in hell with you. You toyed with my body, you treated me like human waste and now you have the fucking gall to make it sound like it’s my fault?”

“I said you bring back bad memories.” Zoro corrects, “And personally, I’m not fond of that.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sanji concludes.

“Then I guess I should do the honor.” Zoro cocks his head.

Sanji lifts a hand to stop him mid-step, “you’re not going anywhere, either.”

 Zoro stands completely still for a moment, like a bolt of lightning recharging, only to hit again, fast and deadly. He scrubs his jaw with his unoccupied hand, and sighs. “What’ you want from me, Sanji?” His voice sounds so darn defeated, it’s hilarious. This guy used to raise utter fear in Sanji with just a stare, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t have money or stocks, I’m broke, and I can’t even afford a biscuit. I have nothing that you’d want to take away from me, same way I took your innocence…”

Sanji falters at that. Yes, Zoro took the most precious thing a human can have, their innocence. Sanji’s eyes start to water as he submerges within the memories. This man standing before him stole his everything, and left him nothing but an empty shell, for four, fucking years. “That’s right, you bastard.” He suddenly groused, “You took everything away from me, and I can never be the same.”

 Zoro lowers his head.

Without his consent, Sanji’s legs dash to the other man. He latches at his collar, pulling him closer to his raging breath. “You stole everything from me. You expect me now to just let it go? To just forget about because me, being here, fucking brings stuff up? Are you in your right mind, or what? I don’t give a damn about your little scary night dreams. I don’t even care if you’re penniless. I’m going to make you relive the hell you made me go through, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it!”

 Zoro scoffs. For the first time, he actually scoffs. When Sanji crinkled his face in wild confusion, Zoro tips his head rearward and lets out a laugh. Sanji’s grip on the coat’s laces tightens, and he frowns. Zoro suddenly cuts off his own laugh.

“This is fucking fantastic!”

Sanji’s eyes widen in complete horror. It’s like a déjà-vu: Dark, evil and sadistic Zoro, acting maniacal. His tightened grips loosen up, and fall, each at a side.

“Listen to me, Sanji, and listen carefully.” He starts, “You don’t want to get yourself involved with me again. I may be in control of myself now, but that’s not to say a part of me doesn’t relish the thought of skinning you alive.”

Sanji’s lungs race after every waft of breath, hoping it’s not the last. His face pales so bad the dead have nothing on him. Above all, he can’t feel the ground underneath his feet.

“Now, that’s a good look on you.” Zoro smirks, “what, did you think you can stroll up here and bark orders at me, are you fucking insane?”

Sanji shakes his head in disbelief.

“Look here,” Zoro’s expression hardens, “I’m only going to say this once, I want you to leave and never come back.”

Sanji’s knees give out under him, and he falls to the ground. Wide, unbelieving eyes on the leaves scattered across the earth.

“If you sneak back here, there’s no telling of what I might do to you, understand?” and without waiting for a reply, that perhaps wasn’t going to be worded, Zoro hugs his jug closer to his abdomen and tramps away.

 

A bird chirps happily in the far-off distance, and the dry branches continue to crackle and crunch. The burbling water flows in a calming sound, enveloping the low, breathless noises Sanji is making.

He is on his four, his eyes on the ground. He digs his nails into the dirt and drags fistfuls.

He can’t believe it…

He can’t fucking believe it.

He looks between his thighs. He scrutinizes the bulge there –a telltale sign of his erection. “You have got to be kidding me…!”

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been taking a break. Sorry for the inconvenience.  
> I hope you let me know what you think, and leave me kudos as well. they sheer me up.  
> Hope you enjoy~

 

After the parent-teacher conference, Sanji headed to his place. He doesn’t remember the nature of the main issue he and the parents of the students discussed, but he guesses it’s something moronic. Those talks usually steer from what benefits the students to ‘I keep telling him to stop fooling around, but he doesn’t want to listen. I don’t know what to do’, which he knows could be solved with a little beating. Of course, he doesn’t tell them that, although it’s a great strategy.

 

He lies there on bed sprawled like a starfish, staring up at the plain ceiling.

Roronoa Zoro remembers everything. He remembers doing those things to Sanji, and he remembers what that bitch lady Hancock did to him as well. Which, okay, Sanji has predicted at some point, but how in the blue hell did the entire reunion end up with him having a frigging hard-on.

It’d have made a little sense if what connected him with Zoro were affectionate sentiments reignited by the reunion, but the man… Sanji clutches at his hair at the memory. What they had wasn’t innocent, it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t something to be had in the first place. So it doesn’t make sense that he got hard hearing Zoro relishing the thought of skinning him alive. So… what, is he a freaking masochist now? Did those times Zoro tortured him result in some fucked-up tendency to derive sexual gratification from pain and humiliation?

Did he develop Stockholm syndrome, does he sympathize with his captor now? –he’s never found anything funnier. He feels nothing towards Zoro, so it’s safe to say he isn’t sympathizing with that bastard who ruined his life. Even during captivity, Sanji never felt the need to rely on his captive for survival; he always hated the son of a bitch.

This is why he can’t make head or tail of what happened at the last second, after Zoro left him to his own devices. Why did he get erect back at the woods?

 

Buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

Sanji’s eyes shoot open, wild, sapphire blue eyes catching the morning light. He hurls a hand to the clock to shut off the alarm, and the other scratches his chest. He sits up, bed hair sticking out to different directions.

It’s Saturday, and he delights in the idea of the whole day off. He gets to sleep in, have late breakfast and call it lunch, just for the heck of it. He gets to leave the bed unmade, and the curtains of the windows drawn. Nobody gives him lip for any of that, and he doesn’t feel bad about it.

 

Half past two in the afternoon finds Sanji inside the woods again, stalling by the river bank with his hands in his pockets. He scrapes at some pebble with the sole of his converse shoe, and finally kicks it into the water. He noticed how it suddenly dropped cold, but he doesn’t think that’s enough to call it quit. He knows Zoro will come here again, with that stupid jug. He knows Zoro will glare at him, perhaps give him the hairy eye-roll, but he won’t skin him alive.

If Zoro was saying the truth, he would have skinned him alive the day Sanji first showed up there.

He knows the spell had been broken that day at Hancock’s office right before the fire. There’s no way Zoro will fall off the wagon now that his sanity has been put on a leash. Sanji is risking a lot by coming here despite Zoro’s warning, or threat, but he feels like if he doesn’t, he’ll be the one to lose his mind.

When his watch showed three fifteen, the whooshing of the wind became more violent, with more howling involved.  He decides to wait more, just a little bit more and then he’ll leave.

Those bushes crackle again, the signal of Zoro’s arrival.  Sanji whips towards the source of the noise, and waits. Zoro slowly emerges from between the bushes and the naked branches, dressed in the same clothes from the previous day. This time, instead of the usual jug, he’s carrying a 2.5 gallon plastic, white jug. He glares at Sanji when their eyes met, and he gives a very hairy eye-roll, just like Sanji predicted.

“I thought you’d stand me up.” Sanji snorted, humorlessly.

Zoro walked past him to fill up the plastic jug. “Go home.”

“Or what, you’ll threaten me to death?” Sanji’s voice croaked, “I know you can’t hurt me, Zoro. You might as well drop the act.”

Zoro leaves the bottle under the cascades and spins around to face him. He scowls. “Oh, let me guess, you’re here to make me relive the hell I made you go through.”

Sanji only gives a crooked smile.

“And how’s that working out for you?” Zoro cocks his head, like a cheeky brat. “I don’t see your toolbox, Sanji, going for the Spanish Donkey there, you fucking brat, or maybe something more poetic like The Pear of Anguish? What’s your brilliant plan, huh?”

Sanji knows that they both know he’ll never be able to lift a weapon against someone if they don’t deserve it. Although, he thinks Zoro deserved it, it was before the magic word was revealed. It wouldn’t be fair to this man if Sanji did set his plan on motion: torturing the man who tortured him under the influence of hypnosis. How’s that for more credits in his career.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” Zoro finally admits on a defeated sigh.

Sanji clenches his fists by his sides.

“Please,” Zoro breathes out, “just leave me the hell alone. I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m not hurting you anymore, so just leave.”

Wordlessly, Sanji drops his chin to his chest.

Zoro lifts the plastic jug and ambles past Sanji. When he almost reached the bushes, Sanji hollered aloud. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me, you bastard?”

Zoro comes to a standstill, and the water within the cap-less bottle sloshes and spills to the ground. “Suit yourself.” He says, and walks away again.

 

Sanji thought of following Zoro to whatever hellhole he usually crawls of. He thought of busting the man’s hiding spot, so he wouldn’t have a safety zone to pull back to. Eventually, he decided not to. Zoro said he had nothing to lose, and grating on the nerves of a man who has nothing to lose is risky, and not to mention reckless. In the past, he wouldn’t have cared, but he has a job now, and he has to think about his family as well.

Before he knew it, the clock hit seven. Angry, charcoal clouds hang low in the sky like suffocating soot. The damp-smelling air brisked up its pace, shaking the giant dry tree branches like a meadow of dandelions. Sanji looked up, a drop of rain landed on his cheek, and he knew he couldn’t postpone the impending downpour. The sky unleashes a torrent that exhibits no sign of stopping soon, and the water that was calmly burbling in the river, rages in its full glory.

Sanji scurries to the trunk of a skinny tree, thinking that if he takes cover there, the storm will pass by and ignore his existence. He doesn’t count on the jugged flashes of lightning cracking the grey sky. Aside from the fear, Sanji can’t resist the excitement of being the only one seeing this, and living it. Of course, any other person with a normal brain would be home, wrapped in a warm blanket and drinking hot chocolate, but he’s not exactly normal. After the lightning strike, Sanji leaves the temporary sanctuary he found at the bole of the tree and strides foreword. He is actually surrounded by trees, and if one of them was to fall on him, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

“What’ you doing?” The velvety, deep voice asked, and Sanji stumbled in his attempt to turn, finding Zoro standing by the bushes with a lantern in hand.

They hold eye contact even through the wind.

“I missed my chance to go back.” Sanji hollers, hoping his voice will soar above the howling of the wind.

Zoro rolls his eyes, and motions with his head. Sanji’s brows twitch in confusion before he deciphers the gesture. He watches as Zoro traces back his trail beyond those bushes, and for the first time, Sanji will uncover the mystery that resides there.

He thrusts his hands into the side pockets of his jacket, and follows Zoro.

 

They meander their way through the storm for a few minutes before Sanji sees the familiar cabin just ahead. He freezes to the spot, and he knows the cold has nothing to do with it.

He remembers that cabin, and he remembers trudging to it in a full-moon night with Zoro hunting him. He remembers the pain and fatigue he was enduring that night while praying for a miracle to happen. Eventually, it did. Although he got dragged back to the cell, he made it out. This is what he should focus on: he made it out.

Zoro bounds up the couples of stairs at the porch right to the front door, he opens it and skids inside. Sanji takes a deep breath in and lets it out, shakes his head and finally follows Zoro’s suit.

 

Sanji shuts the door in the face of the howling wind, and welcomes the silence and the dim light that follow. From his hunch by the closed front door, he scans the interior of the infamous cabin.

There’s a worn armchair by the window, with a mountain of books piled at its foot. A wooden table in the middle (on top of which Zoro placed the lantern) adjoined to two wooden chairs. He guesses that’s where Zoro eats his meals. There’s a counter of logs bundled together providing a ledge upon which to display all sorts of lined clay and wooden utensils and cutlery. A single, tatty bed nestled on the opposite corner, a dark brown cabinet next to it.

He whips his head to the noise of crackling and finds Zoro by the stone-structured fireplace, prodding the fire with an iron poker.

“Shouldn’t you open the window first?” He wonders aloud.

“Be useful.” Zoro tells him.

Sanji clicks his lips in distaste, slips out of his shoes and aims the window to open it a little. “This is where you’ve been staying the past four years?”

Zoro flings a couple of axed logs into the fire and sits up. He walks back to the 2.5 plastic jug he placed by the door. Sanji rolls his chin, annoyed at being ignored. Zoro then takes the jug in his hand and heads to a closed door, he opens it, and Sanji catches sight of the bathroom, and all the happenings of that night race to him.

[“open up, I’m kinda itching to see you.”]

[“You carved your name on my back!” “Yeah, did you like it?”]

Sanji’s pulse raves inside his ears, threatening to make his head explode. He clutches at his chest and stumbles rearward. He pants in shallow, uneven breathes.

[“Your life is mine, you bastard. It’s the final rule. You have no right to end your life without my permission. If you do something like this again, I’ll make sure to bring you back and hurt you to the point you’re gonna want to die again, but you won’t, ‘cause I won’t let you.”]

Sanji scurries to the front door, yanks it open and steps outside, a hand on his mouth. He scrambles down the set of steps and lands on the wet ground on four. He retches, vomiting his breakfast all over the small puddles.

It was a mistake to come here. He shouldn’t have followed Zoro so readily to the swamp of nightmarish reminders. He should have left the minute Zoro told him to go home. God, this is too much. He was going to kill himself in the bathroom of this cabin. He was going to give up. Heck, he even managed to send himself unconscious, and half hoped his tongue would block his airway.

He hears the door of the cabin creaks, and he knows Zoro is standing there, watching his miserable state. He always hated the hopelessness Zoro planted in him, the fear and the despair. He always hated feeling his self-loathing reaching the brim and overflowing.

Now, it’s like it’s happening all over again: him yielding to his shadows, and Zoro watching him being weak.

“Leave me alone!” He manages to holler, but soon retches again.

The door creaks again after a minute.

The rain doesn’t fucking let up as Sanji remains on his four, wallowing in self-pity. He feels the joints in his back starting to protest, aching and pulling. There’s nothing to expel from his stomach so he levers up to his feet, wobbling. He seriously considers going back to his apartment, storm can go to hell. He examines the tall trees swaying under the brunt of the wind’s force, and the rain-full currents slapping him tirelessly. Then, a flash of lightening zaps again, illuminating everything like glaring headlights. And it’s soon followed by a clap of thunder. Sanji knows the risks of being outside in a storm like this, let alone walk under it. He collects himself and turns around, when he walked the set of steps, he found a clay cup of water on the large handrail of the porch’s railing.

Sanji’s shoulders sag and his former fighting spirit dissipates to melancholy and depression.

He walks inside the cabin again, cup in hand. He finds Zoro by the counter, rummaging around for something. Sanji trudges to the table and sits on the chair. He crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them. He watches keenly how Zoro takes two wooden bowls and a plate.

Zoro dashes to the fireplace and lifts the four sardine skewers he must have placed there when Sanji ran outside. He brings them to the counter and places them on the plate. He also takes out a copper stockpot that has probably been through the two world wars, and puts it on the counter. He uses a wooden ladle to scoop rice from the pot and pour it in the bowls. He sets everything on a rustic tray with spoons to go with, and brings it to the table Sanji is currently sitting at.

“Wash up first.” He tells Sanji, now fanning down on the other chair.

Sanji nuzzles his arms, and soon feels a shudder running through him at the dampness of his jacket sleeves. He sits up, scrubs a hand over his face and groans.

“I told you to leave me alone, didn’t I?” He scowls at Zoro.

Zoro’s empty stare doesn’t change as he picks his share of two fish skewers, and the bowl of rice. He picks his spoon and stabs it into the rice.

Sanji eyes his share of the food, his upset stomach complains again. He groans and drinks more of the water Zoro brought him earlier. Zoro is eating his food like hellhounds are at his tail. Watching him eat with such a big appetite makes Sanji hungry. He is hungry, but he knows the moment he’ll eat, he will get sick again, and that’s the worst part of the whole process. He perks up, though, when Zoro pushes his chair to the back, making it squeak and startle Sanji.

Zoro heads back to the counter again, which he uses as the kitchen. He delves into the holes beneath, finally coming out with a small glass container. He comes back to the table, slams the container next to Sanji’s meal until the cutlery and the lantern shake.

“It's honey.” He said, “Eat a spoon of that to feel better.”

“Still playing doctor?” Sanji scoffs.

To his surprise, Zoro actually pales and his shoulders flinch. His hand that was aiming to lift his spoon stops mid-air, and his eyes widen.

Sanji, for a stupid second, wanted to take it back. It was childish and uncalled for, especially if all Zoro did was offer treatment for his stomachache. However, the bitter tang of his vomit is still fresh in the back of his throat, and he blames Zoro for it. So what’s so nuts about calling a reprisal?

Zoro nibbles at his bottom pink lip for a moment, glistered with the oil of sardine. He blinks sporadically before eventually jabbing the spoon into the rice again. He doesn’t stop until there’s no scrapes left. He lifts his bowl and spoon and skewers, and heads to the front door.

Soon after Zoro walks out, Sanji hears clinking and cluttering, and he assumes Zoro is washing the tools. He seizes the moment of the man’s absence to drool over the delicious-smelling grilled sardine. He gets a throwback to the family BBQs during sunshine summer afternoons, Styrofoam cups and plates filling up the long, narrow table, and gleeful squeaks of children soaring in the backyard. All of it now encroached in darkness and despair that just doesn’t seem to want to leave him the fuck alone.

He pushes the plate away and leans back on the headrest of the chair, eying the logs forming the ceiling. He inhales and exhales, chest rising and falling.

 

Zoro treads back inside, cutting off the howls of the wind by the slam of the door, startling Sanji again. He pays no heed to the vigorous jolt taking over the intruder’s body because of him, and kicks off his boots and carries on walking to the armchair by the window. He takes off his coat, hangs it on the handle of the window, and then he sits on the armchair, a hand stretching to peck out a book from the pile.

There’s a small voice deep within Sanji’s head, screaming, craving to be heard. He tries to listen to it, see its purpose. But all it gives him are flashbacks of Zoro fucking him rough and deep. He lets out a strange small noise and drops his face on his hands. This is absolutely the worst! He isn’t getting hard again, especially not in front of this guy.

“Lose the jacket,” Zoro suddenly demands.

Sanji’s entire body freezes. All his neurons rewire back to the state he was in back in that cell. How he’d crumble with just an order from Zoro, and usually capitulate to his desires. Now, he wants him to strip? Don’t fucking joke about it, Sanji didn’t survive months of hell to only fall back in the same rut. He is stronger now, although people can argue about his mental health, but physically, he can take down a man the size of Zoro.

He doesn’t lift his head when he says “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”

Zoro keeps silent for a beat before he chuckles, “don’t flatter yourself, asshole.” He said, “I was just being thoughtful. I don’t give a damn if you catch a cold.”

So he was being thoughtful?

Sanji slowly starts to feel his cheeks growing hot, “Keep your concern to yourself.” he huffed, “I’m not getting undressed in front of you.”

“I’m not vouching for it to happen.” Zoro drawled, now turning the page of the book he’s reading.

“Sounds inconceivable,” he scoffs.

Zoro propels his index on the page he’s reading and closes the book. He reels his head to Sanji and repositions himself of the armchair that creaks under his weight. “You seem to misunderstand something, Sanji.” He started, “The ‘psycho’ me who used to cut through your flesh may have been fascinated by you,” he said, “but I don’t give a shit about you. And I’m certainly not fascinated by you to want to see you unclothed.”

Sanji’s brows twitch at that.

“So stop thinking too highly of yourself, okay?” he advised, “You’re not that important to me as you may think.”

Sanji’s lips part, revealing his teeth. He sneers into his hands, and soon barks a laugh. He lifts his face off his palms and faces Zoro’s blank stare. “You son of a bitch,” he started, his eyes glowing in the dull lamplight, “you sick son of a bitch.”

“Why,” Zoro asked, “because I don’t care about you anymore?” he demands, firmly.

Sanji keeps that half smirk plastered on, despite the rage boiling inside him.

“I don’t.” Zoro asserted on a curt shrug before reopening the book again to read it.

Sanji stares at the man’s profile, a hand clutching at the edge of the table until the color leaves his knuckles. He gulps the lump lodged in his throat, and sighs stiffly.

 

The sound of fire crackling and the wind whooshing outside carries on without a rest. The storm outside doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t go away either. From time to time, Sanji hears the rustling of papers being turned, but other than that, the place is dead silent. He shoves the chair backward when he attempts to stand, first movement he’s proceeded to execute in hours. He saunters lethargically to the bathroom and locks himself in.

The creak of the door is so ominous that Zoro lifts his eyes off that page, scrutinizing the door Sanji’s just closed. He puts the book aside and goes to poke the sheen embers, so the fire wouldn’t go out. Moments later, something inside the bathroom makes a small thud. Zoro pivots his body to the closed door, and knocks.

“Are you still alive in there?” He asks, eyebrows slowly furrowing.

Sanji doesn’t reply immediately, but he does make another noise inside.

“What do I make of that?” Zoro wonders, aloud.

“I’m okay,” Sanji grumbles, “just let me be.”

Zoro remained by the door for a few more beats before returning to his armchair.

 

“This is bad,” Sanji moaned with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

He knew reliving the trauma could cause him discomfort, and a little nausea, it’s understandable. This, however, is beyond painful. There is nothing to expel from his stomach, and he already emptied his bowels after waking up this morning. If he retches again, he is certain he’ll end up throwing up his lungs. His abdominal area is in severe pain that his face is starting to turn green, and his stomach keeps somersaulting, he is also dizzy and doesn’t know how to pull off the flames eating his body from within.

“This is so bad.”

He remains completely still with most of his weight reclining on the sink, afraid to knock off more than a shave brush this time. One word of complaint from him and Zoro will be there to offer help, or will he?

The bastard came clean about his feeling towards Sanji, the guy he raped in different positions. He didn’t even bat an eye talking about how caring about Sanji isn’t who he is anymore, so who’s to say his cry for help will go attended to. God, he should feel happy and light after the revelation, but this darkness twisting inside his chest and head, weaving conspiratorial plots…

He doesn’t know anymore.

When he eyed his reflection in the mirror, the copious amount of sweat over his pasty complexion sent him reeling down with worry and fear. He retches onto the floor, praying for relief–

“Take deep breaths, Sanji.” Zoro cut off his chain of thoughts.

Sanji groans in response.

“You need to active your parasympathetic nervous system,” his voice creeps through the slits in the door, disembodied. “You aren’t going to make yourself feel better if you worsen your anxiety.”

Whose fault is that, Sanji wonders.

“Open the door,” He suddenly ordered, “I can help.”

“Scram, Roronoa Zoro.” Sanji grouses. Pain stabs his abdominal section and he folds in on himself, nursing his middle with a moan.

Zoro spoke after a pause, “Take deep a breath in, and then let it out.” He instructs. “Repeat the process over and over until your stomach settles down.”

Against himself, Sanji followed the instruction. After a few minutes, the pain did not subside.

“Sanji, you really need to open the door for me to examine you.” There’s plea in his voice, it’s hilarious.

“What,” Sanji snorted, his bleary eyes sinking under his lids only to refocus again. “You suddenly care?”

“I can’t ignore you if you’re hurling your guts over my bathroom sink.”

“Don’t worry, you jackass.” Sanji said on a barely stifled whimper, “Nothing’s coming out.”

“All the more reason to let me examine you,” Zoro insisted, “look, severe abdominal pain is usually a sign of bad news. I know you don’t want me near you, and I don’t want to be near you either. But don’t place your health in jeopardy at a time like this, okay, especially if I can help.”

The lock clicks and the door slides open. Zoro is holding the lantern in his hand, and his eyes roam the narrow room to spot Sanji. He finds him slumped on the floor with his arms wrapped around his middle, shivering and pale. He crouches down very slowly, placing the lantern gently on the floor.

“Hey,” he coaxes as though willing a cat to tap his palm, “you look pretty done in.”

“Whoa, I’m impressed you could tell all that with just a glance.” Sanji sneers, but soon grimaces as another stab of pain pierces him.

“Come on” Zoro skids closer to him, “let’s take you out of here.”

Sanji allows the man to manhandle him back to the seat of the table. He sits him down and brings him another cup of water.

“First things first,” Zoro begins, “take off your clothes. I’ll get you a new set ready.”

Sanji glowers fiercely at the man.

“You want to get better or not?” Zoro finally frets.

Sanji rolls his eyes and faces elsewhere. He hears the rustling when Zoro delved into the drawers of his cabinets, and then he brought the new set of clothes to Sanji.

“I won’t look.” He promised, “Just change into these, and hurry.”

Sanji doesn’t move until Zoro goes back to his armchair, eyes on the window. He starts taking the jacket off, and since it’s wet, it weighs more than it should. He takes off his t-shirt next, and when it goes past his head, he groans. By the time he reaches his belt loop, he is breathless.

Zoro finally has enough. He sighs wearily and lifts off the armchair. “What’s the use of changing into dry clothes if you’re going to be this slow?”

“You said you wouldn’t look!” Sanji crouches, almond-shaped eyes widening in both embarrassment and panic.

“I did.” Zoro agrees, now standing a stride-length away from the other. “But you were taking awfully long to strip.”

“That sounded vaguely sexual.” Sanji huffed.

“Here,” Zoro pulls Sanji by the belt loop, “I’ll lend a hand.”

He didn’t mean to. Sanji’s hand didn’t mean to smack Zoro’s face. He didn’t realize what’s just transpired until the stinging his hand doubled. He gapes at Zoro’s face, a cheek redder than the other. “T-told you not to touch me,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “You had it coming.”

Zoro’s eyes rise up, catching Sanji’s. “That was uncalled for.”

Sanji shudders, his pains going ignored. As he sees the cold stare in Zoro’s eyes hardening like a bitch face, he realizes that, bit by bit, his cock starts to react. He snatches the jacket from the backrest of the chair to cover his crotch.

“You’re troublesome.” Zoro simply states, “Change into these and go to bed.”

Sanji lowers his head and Zoro walks to the kitchen. He seizes the man’s distraction to take his pants off, hating how his cock springs free from its nest. Eventually, he manages to change into the set of clothes Zoro prepared for him: grey sweats. He wobbles his way to the bed before sprawling on it. Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to do as the vigorous shake aggravated his stomach pain. He turns on his side and folds himself into a ball, “this is the absolute worst.”

“You’re telling me.” Zoro commented. He returns with a pack of bland crackers, and more water. “I prepared some ginger ale, but it needs to heat up on the fire for a bit.”

Sanji sits up at last after a few grueling attempts, he eyes the saltine. “Thought you said you couldn’t even afford a biscuit.”

“This type of bland food won’t irritate your stomach,” Zoro justifies, “now eat it, and shut up.”

Sanji eats it without another complaint.

Zoro goes back to boiling the ingredients inside a small saucepan, and the scent of ginger soon wafts in the cold air. A few minutes later, he lifts it off the fire and pours the content into a cup. He returns to Sanji’s bedside, handing him the cup. “Drink all of it.”

Sanji takes the cup from him, and sips the ginger ale.

“You need to rest now.” Zoro instructs, taking the now-empty cup from the other man, “sleep off the fever if you want it to break sooner.”

Sanji’s incredulous stare lingers on Zoro’s.

“What?” Zoro bites out.

Sanji shrugs a shoulder and sinks back into the pillow, “you’re right about the resting part,” he says on a sigh, his eyes slowly close before he murmured “I’m so tired…”

 

Zoro stands by the bed, blank eyes on Sanji’s sleeping face.

 

This is the guy his former psycho self tortured and raped for months? This is the guy his heart ached for whenever the memories struck, this spoiled, overbearing and oversensitive guy?

He wants to laugh. Heck, he wants to wake Sanji up so they can both crack jokes about the entire setup. This world is a big fucking joke, and he’s always believed in that. It’s probably why Hancock took advantage of it and made his twisted thoughts a reality. He tortured this guy, and ruined his youth. He knows he can’t judge his character, if there’s something fucked up, it’s on him.

He rakes a hand through the long strands of his hair.

Sanji falling terribly sick at a mere memory is not a good sign. At this rate, he won’t have a chance to at least atone. When Zoro goes to sleep, he sees Sanji in his dreams. It’s been four years now, and the occurrence still happens. He is always either torturing or raping Sanji in those dreams, and no matter how much he fights it, he always succumbs to that dark side. He knows that, even though he’s no longer acting under the influence of hypnosis, there is still darkness inside him. He guesses everybody does, it’s a philosophical question of the human nature. However, that is not the issue here. Zoro feels a part of him, buried inside, always hankering for release, and always calling out to Sanji.

Now, the bastard came back to make the work of years crumble.

All Zoro wanted was to be left alone. It’s true he skipped the fire four years ago, but he didn’t wish for that life anymore. He doesn’t wish to be under the spotlight again, and he certainly doesn’t wish for a repeat of those years. Sanji being here raises all risks of that happening. This bastard, coming back so readily, acting like he fucking knows what he’s getting himself into…

Sanji groans faintly in his sleep.

Because of stupid anxiety, yes, he got this bad because of fear and anxiety, and built-up stress which he didn’t know how to handle. Now, his body is reacting badly, and Zoro is stuck with nursing him back to health.

He shakes his head.

Stepping closer to the bed, he pulls the cover higher and flings it over Sanji’s shivering body –then he hears that darkness within fucking drawling…

_Delicious moans of pain! The image of this shivering, hopeless man, moaning beneath him, spread out and rammed into._

Zoro recoils to the back, horror seizing him. “This isn’t fucking happening.”

 

When Sanji’s eyes flutter open, the dim light tells him it’s still night time. He grunts trying to sit up. “W-water…” But he finds nobody inside the cabin. He swivels his head in all directions, but Zoro isn’t inside. “Zoro?”

A wave of dizziness hits him like a sucker punch, and he grunts again. He knows it isn’t the time to be incapacitated by a damn fever if he’s by himself and defenseless. He removes the blanket off him, and swings his legs outside the bed. He immediately shivered when he soles touched the floor. He supported himself on the headboard of the bed to stand up, realizing it’s not the brightest move of his yet. The dizziness intensifies to the point of being painful. He braces himself, and steps forward towards the bathroom. He opens it, but nobody is there. His eyes catch spider-web cracks on the mirror, splattered in crimson.

“The hell happened in here?”

He walks away from the bathroom to the front door, and by the time he reaches the said door, he is panting like he’s just ended a NASCAR race on his feet. His shaky hand reaches for the door handle, but someone opens it from the outside. Sanji stills when his eyes lock with Zoro’s.

“What’ you doing outside bed?” Zoro berated.

“I-I woke up” Sanji mumbles with his cheeks flushed, “you weren’t there… I…” he trails off, hoping the man will be able to fill in the blank.

So he panicked.

Zoro scrubs his jaw, and rolls his eyes. “Even if,” he started, “you shouldn’t have left the bed, especially if you’re this sweaty.”

Sanji crinkles his face in distaste. “Nobody begged you to nurse me back to health, okay? I certainly didn’t!” he seethed, breathlessly.

“You’re in my place, acting sick.” Zoro countered, “Of course I’m compelled to!”

“Don’t!” Sanji shouted, and the ringing in his ears went off. He closes his eyes and groans.

“You’re gonna pass out.” Zoro pinpointed.

“You think I find this funny?” Sanji cracked his eyes open, glassy from fever and fatigue. “I wished to God you never existed, this isn’t easy for me!”

Zoro stares impassively into Sanji’s bleary eyes, “I wish you died four years ago.”

Sanji’s eyes widen, and this pang in his chest drilling a hole, it expands more and more. Without his consent, his tears overflow like a torrent. He shakes his head, and doesn’t even fight to hide his sobs anymore.

It’s mutual, what the hell did he expect, Zoro getting on his knees to ask for his forgiveness…?

He lived with the man, he saw how he communicates. He never thought of himself under anyone, he was always above all. He was a sadist who relished the sorry state of others, especially Sanji’s. This is no different from what the man used to be like. Changing scenery doesn’t change this man’s rotten personality.

“Cruel.” It comes out as an anguished sob before Sanji reigns it in.

Zoro licks his lips, “now go back to bed.”

Sanji runs trembling fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, and wills himself to calm his uneven breathing. “I’m leaving.” He muttered, faintly. “I feel better now, so I’ll just scram.”

“Don’t spout nonsense, Sanji.” Zoro grumbles, shoulders sagging “you’re delirious from the fever, if you don’t rest enough, you’ll pass out.”

Sanji pins the man with a hard glare. “You’re a piece of work, didn’t you know?”

“Could say the same about you” Zoro retorted.

Sanji wobbles back to the table, pecking out his clothes.

“What’ you doing?” Zoro demands, “didn’t you just hear me?”

Sanji ignores him. The ringing in his ears becomes unbearable, and he tries to hold on. He clutches at the backrest of the chair, fighting the queasiness. He tries to word his discomfort, but it comes out mumbled and tired.

“I swear, you’re a fucking eyesore.” Zoro rumbled before stepping right into Sanji’s personal space.

Sanji’s alarms went off, warning him about everything: his body that isn’t functioning, nor cooperating right. Zoro on him again, planning to do God knows what, and, here he is, feeling miserable for himself.

Suddenly, he feels his body being lifted off the ground by marble arms. The room of logs swims in his vision, and he finds no better alternative but to close his eyes. The last thing his mind registers is the scent of earth and wood coating Zoro’s body, and bit by bit, his heavy head fans backward on the nook of Zoro’s arm.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to minsugaforlyfe ;)

 

 

The next morning dawns, bright and cold, Sanji groans awake. He gives his eyes a second to adjust, and then everything comes back to him: the storm, the pain, the cabin and Zoro tending to him. God, he wants to wipe himself off the face of the earth. Zoro carried him bridal style to bed, how is Sanji supposed to let himself live it down.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after he kicked his consciousness out of the window, but he knows Zoro stayed far away from his vicinity. He is actually kind of grateful for that.

He sits up, taking in the empty cabin. He catches sight of a cloth on the table and guesses that’s his breakfast underneath, tucked and covered. He trudges towards the bathroom, expecting to see the broken mirror on which Zoro crafted a spider web last night, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even understand why Zoro punched the damn thing, if he was against Sanji hogging the bed, he’d have said so. Not that Sanji would have given it to him anyways. This actually makes him dredge up the kind of monologue going though Zoro’s mind, or have been ever since Sanji popped up on him near the river bank.

For him, he hasn’t stopped thinking about Zoro ever since their reunion. Even now, God damn, all he thinks about is Zoro. And he’s expected to get his things and scram? There’s no chance in hell he would. He is here and he might as well rebuild himself using the pile of trauma and nightmare source going as far as staying outside the cabin to ignore him.

 

There’s a note on the table that says (don’t come back). Sanji lifts it up, scrutinizes it and then crunches it into a ball.

He will come back.

 

Or so he said, and that was two weeks ago.

Ever since he came back from the cabin and the woods and the nightmares, Sanji wasn’t able to step foot into all of that again. He admits going to the entry way of the woods a few times, but never having enough balls to actually venture inside. He doesn’t blame his nightmares or Zoro, for that matter, which is hilarious, because he should. Zoro made him relive the nightmares, and that eventually caused him physical, unbelievable pain. It’d have been certifiable if fear was the thing holding him back, but no. His body and mind work differently than that and that’s something he’s come to realize, unfortunately, a bit late.

Soon after getting back to his apartment, two days later maybe, his nightmares started to manifest into something he’d long since thought was over. Those nights he’d spent, moaning, with his mind filled with thoughts of Zoro’s face and hands. They were back on full force, dragging him down to this bog swamp of self-loathing and disgust.

He guesses meeting Zoro again after all those years reignited what he’d spent most of his time trying to suppress. Now, as he sits on his desk chair, spinning from side to side and facing the window, appalling ideas start to wiggle into his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, and quitting his job sounds like a wise decision. He should. He also should move out, go far away from those eerie-looking woods. The part of him that still wants to fight voted against that, reasoning that Zoro is the source of his traumas, and if he wants to grow out of them, he’d better face Zoro again. However, the wise side of him vouched for a way out, somewhere distant from what’s causing Sanji physical pain.

 

6 P.M Friday finds him pacing by the cabin’s front door.

 

“What am I doing?” Sanji berates, “What in the world am I doing?”

A twig snaps in the background and Sanji whips around, eyes wide and wary. He finds Zoro in same clothes from two weeks ago, standing in the clearing with a bundle of fish in a hand. Sanji’s entire body goes numb, and his mind becomes completely blank. Zoro’s eyes remain on Sanji’s, hard and vague, and then he lets out a full-bodied sigh. He steps forward, climbs up the few stairs and whooshes past Sanji. And to the latter’s surprise, Zoro leaves the front door open.

Sanji swallows his hesitation and walks into the cabin.

As he stands by the door, he takes in the same furniture poised in the same position from before. He also watches how Zoro places the fish on the counter to take off his coat. Sanji kicks off his shoes and steps inside, aiming the chair by the table.

Again, the rest of the evening is spent in silence with Zoro grilling the fish inside the fireplace. Sanji has sat on the armchair and pecked out a book from the pile, _Touching the Void_ , and read up to three pages when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Do you even have any friends?”

“It’s true that I allowed you in, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate your chatter.” Zoro said from his crouch by the fireplace.

“So what, are you just going to pretend I’m not here for the rest of the night?” Sanji marvels.

“Are you staying here for the rest of the night?” Zoro asks, and there’s a hint of a groan in his voice.

“You want me to walk back these woods when it’s gotten this dark?” Sanji exclaims, “I know you’re heartless, but try to be a little more sensitive, ok?”

“Then why can’t you?” Zoro retorts.

Sanji arches up a brow at the man, a cue for him to explain.

“You’re back when I clearly told you to stay away,” he huffs, “I told you I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, but here you are again, deliberately strolling within my territory.”

“Your territory,” Sanji scoffs, “last time I checked, these woods weren’t yours.”

“But the cabin is.” Zoro fires back, “and you’re harassing me.”

Sanji clicks his tongue and makes half a smirk, “You’re such a poor little thing, having this evil creature invade your privacy.” He said, his tone gushing with sarcasm. “Are you scared I’ll awaken your memories of being a psycho?”

Zoro almost snarls, “You don’t want to go there.”

“You’re wrong. I do want to go there.” Sanji confirms, “But it’s unwise if it’s just me and you, isolated. There’s no telling of what you might do to me if your emotions are rattled.”

Zoro then straightens up to full height.

Instead of fear, all Sanji feels is utter excitement.

“That’s right,” Zoro’s lips pull into a cold smirk, “we’re isolated from everyone.”

A shudder runs through Sanji’s body and he stills all motions, he doesn’t even know if he’s breathing anymore. When Zoro suddenly faced the fireplace, Sanji felt neglected. He watches attentively how Zoro takes the fish skewers to lay them out on the table, and that’s when he felt it: Him losing command over his own body.

He puts the book aside and stands up, his trembling hands fumble with the upper button of his flannel. He manages to unbutton it at last, and then he takes it off. At the sudden rustle, Zoro reels around to understand what’s happening, only to find Sanji stripping off of his clothes. Sanji’s eyes don’t fail to pick up on the dismay slowly taking over Zoro’s expression, but he doesn’t stop. He removes his t-shirt next, and trembles as cold air envelopes his upper body.

“What’s this?” Zoro demands.

Sanji gropes the belt buckle, willing his shivering fingers to undo it.

“Stop,” Zoro grits out, his body growing evidently taut. “What the hell is this?”

Sanji closes his eyes to the accusation in Zoro’s voice, and finally manages to get his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off at last, and then he stands by the armchair, naked from head to toe. He balls his fists at his sides and sighs.

“After you, I tried dating” he starts, “never worked out.”

Zoro remains silent and motionless.

“I knew my body couldn’t respond to anyone but you,” he admits on a sad-stricken, self-derogatory smile. “After all, you’re the one who trained me.”

Zoro lowers his head, but eyes remain wide and trembling. “Put your clothes back on.”

“I won’t.” Sanji insisted, “You caused this, now fix it.”

“I can’t.” Zoro says, dejectedly.

“Why not” Sanji persisted adamantly, almond-shaped eyes bugging out, “You used to take whatever you wanted, and you never asked how I felt about it. I never had a chance to complain. You made me like this, Zoro. You owe me!” He is shouting by the last word.

The fire crackled, interrupting the post silence.

“A broken toy can’t delight a child, Sanji.” Zoro simply says before slumping down on a chair.

Sanji’s nostrils flare, “Stop speaking in backward codes, you asshole.”

“I’m saying I can’t help with that.” Zoro dropped his face on his palm, “I don’t desire you in that way.”

Sanji feels as though he’s just been winded in the guts. “You don’t desire me?” He snorted, “Are you nuts! You spent months raping me in every position you’d think of!”

“That wasn’t me.” Zoro explains, “The things the ‘me’ back then felt towards you dissipated years ago, ok? You think I’ll get hard seeing you naked?”

 “I don’t care,” Sanji seethed, “You ruined every chance I’d have at normal, now take responsibility.”

This is absolutely great. The man who used to make up excuses to get into his pants is now so fixedly trying to not even look at his naked body. And Sanji is supposed to stand there and take it, what, didn’t the bastard hear what he’s just said.

The hand that was palming Zoro’s face slips to the table, he balls it and then slams it on the wood. Sanji in the side flinches so hard. Zoro slowly lifts his face; the glint of dark, malevolent eyes shakes Sanji to the core. He lifts up unhurriedly, as though stalling on purpose to give Sanji a chance to reconsider.

To show him how uninterested he is, Sanji sits on the bed, turns on his side and folds his left knee.

 **_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue_ ** **  
_I'll never be your chosen one_**

Zoro, then, saunters towards him with his heavy soles stomping on the plank. And Sanji closes his eyes. He didn’t reopen them until Zoro stood by the bed, tall and silent.

 **_I'll be home safely tucked away_ ** **  
_Well, You can't tempt me if I don't see the day_**

Aside from his unsteady breaths, Sanji hears the fire crackling. He feels the light touch of air currents on his skin, raising the hair on it. Zoro’s fingers land on the scarred name on his back, icy like a snowflake. Sanji hisses and Zoro immediately lifts his hand off.

“It’s…” Sanji sighs, “You surprised me, s all.”

Zoro rubs his hands against his thighs for a moment, and then he brings same hand again to Sanji’s scars. This time, the man doesn’t hiss. He takes that as his cue to go further.

Sanji clutches at the bed sheets as Zoro glides that hand down to fondle his ass. “None of that,” he gritted out, “I’m not here to cuddle.”

Zoro stills his motions for a beat, and then scoffs. Sanji doesn’t even dare to ask the reason for it.

Zoro thumps the puckered entrance, and although it keeps twitching: an indication of how much nervous Sanji is, he keeps nudging his finger against it. He doesn’t stop until three fingers fit and Sanji is a huffing mess beneath him.

“You’re ready,” he noted out, “but I’m not.”

Sanji perks up at that on his elbows, and he looks over his shoulder at Zoro’s half erection. “I’m not sucking off that thing.”

“How do you suggest I penetrate you otherwise?”

Sanji shakes his head and fans back on his arms. “I’m never gonna blow you again.” Not after Zoro used to beat him into it.

Zoro behind him remains silent, and the rustling of his clothes suggests that he’s unzipping his pants. He crawls over the bed, his scent and warmth enveloping Sanji wholly. He grinds against Sanji’s ass and the latter feels the half hard-on poking him. He braces himself for it. Zoro’s cock slowly grows in size, excited to rub on different flesh.

The precum oozing out of Zoro’s cock, and which the man is rubbing all over Sanji’s rim, results in wet noises. He didn’t allow this, but having Zoro tease his prostate and not penetrate would be cruel to his body. Zoro finally stopped, and lined the head of his cock with Sanji’s hole.

Here it comes; Zoro’s cock…

He is taking his first step into a pit of absolute darkness, and no words are being exchanged.

Sanji stares at the wall, still blowing out little huffs. He keeps his knee folded so that Zoro has enough space. Zoro pushes in very slowly, and Sanji feels his entrance widening at the intrusion. Zoro’s dick is inside him, again, after four years. Sanji opens his mouth and lets a deep groan loose. When Zoro bottomed out, Sanji sagged on the sheets, breathless.

He never forgot this feeling. Not even once.

He knows it’s wrong, and his deceased friends deserve better. Sanji, however, could never stop his other half from hankering for this. Zoro’s cock touching his insides, it simply fits. He clasps his hands on the pillow and pulls it under the side of his head, so that if he moaned, he’d mask the sounds.

Without a forewarning, Zoro snaps his hips. Sanji yowls but quickly buries his mouth in the pillow to stifle the moans that soon follow. Zoro braced his arms at either side of Sanji’s middle, and panted atop him.

Sanji folded his knee to his chest, welcoming the pressure more as Zoro performed strong piston thrusts against his prostate, rocking his entire body and making the bed creak noisily, eventually making him sob his moans.

 **_The pull on my flesh was just too strong_ ** **  
_Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs_**

Zoro’s dick is making him moan, and other than the crackling of the fire this time, all he hears is the wet slapping of skin on skin as Zoro thrusts into him, and the latter is panting. Sanji flings his arm to the back, probing Zoro’s side and finally presses at his ass-cheek, “faster…” he sobbed, “Cumming…”

 

So rough, so strong and deep and Sanji is going out of his freaking mind. His eyes roll under his lids as he sends his cum over the sheets. The tightening of his muscles forced Zoro’s cum out as well. He fans down on Sanji panting shallowly.

“Get off.” Sanji barked.

Zoro lifted off just as quickly, he sat up and slowly slid his cock out.

“I didn’t say you can pull out.” Sanji bites out, “we’re far from done.”

Zoro stares blankly at him.

Sanji shifts a little to lie flat on his stomach. He spreads his legs with his cock nestled between his thighs, and peaking from under his ass cheeks.

“But this position” Zoro trails off.

“What, you used to find satisfaction in my pain, you bastard.” Sanji huffed, “don’t act like you care now.”

Yes, having Zoro thrust inside him in this position is going to be painful, but accompanying pain, there’s pleasure. So while Sanji bears with the pain, he gets to feel utter pleasure as well.

 **_Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie_ ** **  
_'Cause when I opened my body I breathe in a lie_**

Zoro then penetrates Sanji again, his knees on either side of the man’s hips. When he thrusts fast into him, it’s wanton, instinct-driven movements, like a damn dog in a rut.

 

Zoro lingers kneeled on the bed, just watching how his cum trickle down from Sanji’s ass hole and down to the bed cover, adding to the pool of cum Sanji himself created. Sanji passed out soon after Zoro ejaculated in him so much it’d impregnate any other woman, so he savors up this private moment to behold Sanji for his entire splendor.

He smirks…

His name is still scarred on Sanji’s back, engraved on it like the man is his fucking property. This is absolutely great. He fucked Sanji senseless again, and he didn’t have to force the man into anything. The guy invited him to do this with his own free will, and Zoro even gave him a few moments’ leeway to change his mind. He fucked him so deep like Sanji was his Onahole, and he didn’t even care if Sanji screamed in pain, he fucking wanted this.

 ** _I will not speak of your sins_**  
**_There was a way out for him  
the mirror shows not_**

Having Sanji sprawled beneath him, vulnerable and sexed-out, is absolutely great.

 **_Your values are all shot_ ** **  
_But oh my heart, was flawed I knew my weakness_**

He suddenly frowns.

What in the world is he thinking...? Isn’t it enough that Sanji passed out? What else does Sanji have to go through for Zoro to understand how messed up their situation is. Sanji demanded this, so maybe that’s his version of torture. This is the part of that hell he wanted Zoro to relive. This could be troublesome, and in equal part catastrophic.

In any case, he is certain that, after tonight, Sanji won’t come back.

**_So hold my hand consign me not to darkness..._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Mumford and Sons - Broken Crown


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to PassiveDoor~

 

 

It’s like time stops here at midnight so that yesterday recurs. Sanji wakes up, only for his eyes to catch the logs forming the ceiling. He listens as birds chirp with their wings fluttering on the window sill. He listens at the rustle of trees, peaceful and calming.

Zoro is, again, nowhere to be seen.

Sanji sits up and the cover falls off his chest, revealing the warm skin that quivers under the assaulting morning cold. He pulls the cover from the hem up to his neck, and scowls. The front door creaks open, and as Sanji turns to scowl at it, Zoro marches in, a plastic bag in his hand. He grinds to a halt after closing the door when he sees that Sanji is awake and still in bed. Sanji’s bearings give way under the penetrating gaze, and soon he finds his cheeks getting hotter. A flash of the previous night’s happenings on this same very bed appear so he lifts the hem of the cover up to his nose. Zoro looks away and down at his boots, he kicks them off and walks in. Sanji, nested under the cover, watches how Zoro places the bag gently on the counter and starts taking off his coat.

“Go wash up.” He suddenly instructed, now closing the window which Sanji thought has been closed till now. No wonder he heard the birds.

Sanji crinkles his nose at the idea. He is not leaving this warm nest to go wash his face with freezing water. “I’m good.”

Zoro looks over his shoulder, blankly.

“What?” Sanji hissed, “I’m not washing my face with Hoth water, I’d freeze to death!”

Zoro rolls his eyes and carries on to the ‘kitchen’ area.

Sanji returns his mouth under the cover and shivers.

Yesterday, he stripped and offered his body to Zoro without a moment’s thought, and it’s scary: he should be furious at himself and at his horrible decisions, but he isn’t. Last night’s sex was very satisfying –the most satisfied he’s felt in years. He is a little bit, though, remorseful. When he thinks about his dead friends, and his best friend, who suffered just as much, this guilt starts to nag at him.

“Put this on,” Zoro interrupts his thoughts, “we don’t want you freezing to death, now, do we?”

Sanji looks up and a piece of clothing smacks him on the face, he swipes at it and finds that it is a maroon hoodie. He quickly dons it and returns his arms and shoulders under the cover. “What’s for breakfast,” he demands, “fish and rice again?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Zoro simply replied.

“You’re slowly turning into one of those dudes who live up to 40 years of complete isolation,” Sanji said, “starting to sound like one, too.”

Zoro opens the bag, and all Sanji gets for his remark is the scratching noise of the bag being parted. As Sanji nudges the pillow against the headboard to lean on it, Zoro comes up to him with a small dish. Sanji inspects the triangle piece of pie on it, and then returns his gaze on Zoro’s.

“It’s not gonna eat you.” Zoro reminded.

Sanji huffs and takes the plate from him, and then takes the fork as well. Zoro returns to the table and drops down on the chair, his plate cluttering on the table.

“Where did you get this?”

“I have my own pie-farting unicorn at the back of the cabin.”

Silence prevails for a beat, and then Sanji snorts. 

 “Smartass” He shakes his head and stabs the fork into his piece of pie.

“An old lady downtown prepares it for me,” He starts, “She puts it on the ridge of her window every Saturday morning.”

Sanji’s lips have parted open at some point, and he quickly presses them together when he comes to the realization. “Wow,” he marvels, “you must be like the mysterious tooth fairy then,” he joked, “Instead of teeth, she gives you pie.”

Zoro eats in complete silence again.

“She must be a nice person to do that for you.” Sanji added.

“Everything’s been steered into one direction,” Zoro suddenly speaks, eyes on his piece of pie, and for a moment, Sanji thinks the man is talking about the pie. “People stopped doing things for themselves; they do it to get praise instead. Living up to everyone’s expectations is very tiring, and not to mention moronic.”

“What’s wrong with a little praise?” Sanji defended, “not all people aspire for that, but we don’t have the right to condemn those who need it.”

“After sketching your family poster, maybe,” Zoro scoffed, and added “you die alone.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, forehead scowling. “Just what exactly are you trying to get at?”

“That people reach full maturity at age 25,” He reasons, which made Sanji cock his head in more confusion. “Praise or not, as long as you’re breathing, you don’t need anyone’s recognition for your achievement.”

Sanji, for the five seconds he allowed the silence to prevail, he wills his mind to look for what instigated this. He told Zoro that the person who gives him pie must be nice, and that and this are irrelevant. Sanji has no idea what kind of monologue is going on inside Zoro’s head –wait… “Are you trying to say that you’re thankful to the lady who prepares the pie for you?”

Zoro’s upper lip and brows flinch. He quickly resumes eating again, frowning in feign concentration.

Sanji cups his lips to keep them from stretching into a smile. 

This is what a grateful Zoro looks like...?

After another beat of silence, Sanji places the dish on the bedside drawer, resignation taking over. “Listen, once a week, I’ll come to your cabin and leave on the same day.”

Zoro holds off all motions, and then only his eyes lift up.

“I have Saturday free, and you don’t exactly run a business here.” He scoffs, “you give me what I want on a Saturday, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the week.”

“Isn’t that what you’re already doing?” Zoro tilted his head a bit, perplexed.

“Yea, except if you agree to the deal, I’ll leave in the same day.”

Zoro mumbles a “would be fine if you leave forever” before biting a portion of his pie.

“No more staying over, and no more hogging the bed because you obviously seem to have a problem with that.” Sanji goes for lighthearted but his humor is met with silence again, “Or I can just return here whenever I want.”

Zoro dumps the last bit of the pie into his mouth and lifts up. He lays the dish on the counter again, picks his coat from the fastener and slips it on. “Don’t come after dusk.” He says over his shoulder and heads to the front door again.

Sanji’s brows fly up under his fringe, and as he watches Zoro slipping into his boots, a smirk invades his plump lips.

 

 

The next Saturday rolls in quickly.

Sanji buys some snacks, and in his pace outside the grocery store, contemplating whether this is a good idea or not, his legs end up carrying him to the nearest pharmacist. He shamefully hides his purchased items in the chest pocket of his jacket and trudges towards the woods.

He’s overturned this in his head countless times the past few days. He even sought professional help online but eventually chickened out when the questions got too deep and personal. He doesn’t even know why he’s walking towards the cabin, but he knows Zoro is in there, and something in him is fucking drawn to the man and the past that connects them together. Zoro can try and deny this all he wants, but when it’s all said and done, his memory of Sanji is the only thing he’d never be able to erase, and no amount of hypnosis this time can alter the fact, change it or erase it.

The cabin starts to come into view, and with every step closer, Sanji’s heart pounds faster and faster. He sees the smoke that seeps out of the chimney and immediately knows Zoro is inside. He walks up to the door, knocks one time and pushes the door open. He peeks from the slightly opened door and finds Zoro on the armchair, wearing a crew neck pullover and bleached jeans, relaxing and reading a book.

He clears his throat and steps closer to the table. He rests the bag of snacks on the table to take off his jacket. “Brought some snacks, supposing you didn’t have dinner yet.”

Zoro closes the book, flings it over the pile of other dusty books and stands up. Sanji arches a brow, attentively watching the change in endeavor that heralds something, and it’s not anything good.

“Alright,” Zoro looked at him, “I don’t have the entire afternoon, get on the bed.”

Sanji frowns.

“Like I said,” he gritted out, “let’s get it over with.”

Sanji’s frown morphs into… nothing. He hangs the jacket on the backrest of the chair and starts unbuckling his belt. Zoro, in front of him, crosses his arms over his broad chest and flares his nose. Sanji reads the annoyance in Zoro’s gestures, and quickens his movements. Like all the times Zoro hated to be kept waiting. He finally takes his pants off, but keeps his Henley on. He traipses to the bed and sits on it. Zoro uncrosses his arms and also steps to the bed. He watches how Sanji spins around and crawls on four, and then remains in that position.

Zoro grumbles for some reason, and Sanji has a good idea or two why. He isn’t going to give oral, and Zoro needs to wrap his head around it. If he wants to get hard, he can just do same thing he did last time. It worked, it will again.

Zoro kneels on two behind him and unzips his jeans to allow his cock out. He holds Sanji by either side of his hips and starts rubbing his cock against the man’s rim, very, very slowly. Sanji closes his eyes, savoring up the unbelievable feeling. His tongue snakes out, licking his upper lips before he bit on the bottom one. Zoro uses his thumbs to part Sanji’s ass cheeks, and he bumps the head of his cock against the now precum-slicked hole. Sanji lets out contented sighs, and unbeknownst to him, he starts rolling his ass.

No words make their way out of their mouths, only shallow breaths.

Zoro stopped rubbing against Sanji’s rim when his cock grew in size. He doesn’t even wait to consent Sanji as he thrusts into him all the way in. Sanji almost falters. He cries and keeps his narrowed eyes on the wall.

“Bastard” He berates, “how about a little warning before you ram your thing in, you didn’t even prep me.”

“Oh, my bad” Zoro mused, “Didn’t think I was supposed to do that for you as well.”

“Take it out,” he suddenly demands, “I don’t want to feel pain from this.”

“Like I said,” Zoro breathes out, “I don’t have time.”

“You running a lemonade stand, you piece of shit?” He chides, “Take it out before you tear me.”

“Alright,” Zoro acquiesced, but didn’t take his cock out. “But I’m not putting it back in.”

Sanji balls the cover in his fists and flares his nostrils. “Take it out.”

Zoro pulls out with such a force that sends Sanji fanning down on the bed. He tucks his cock under his boxers, and lifts up to zip his fly.

“Wait,” Sanji groans, “I bought lube. You don’t have to do anything, but give me a minute.”

Zoro eyes the defiant look in Sanji’s and can’t help but smirk. “Fine, but make it quick.”

Sanji swings his legs outside the bed and rushes to his jacket, and then he takes out the lube and bolts to the bathroom. Zoro sits on the bed, twines his fingers and props his chin on them. He gives it exactly two minutes before he lifts up. He heads to the bathroom and plasters his mouth closer to the door.

“I’m leaving.”

“I’m almost done,” Sanji reports, “you can’t just leave.”

“Close the door before you go back.”

The door to the bathroom is suddenly yanked open, and Sanji shows up, breathless, cheeks coated in pink and blond hair disheveled. Zoro observes him silently.

“I’m done.”

Zoro shakes his head, “next time” he said, “I need to go now.”

“Not fair,” Sanji bellowed, “We had a deal, Zoro. You can’t just back away.”

Zoro crunches his face like he’s heard the reiteration of the accusation countless times, now he just can’t bring himself to care. “I get it,” he huffed, “you want to come, right? Turn around.”

Sanji flings him that incredulous look, and slowly swivels around. Zoro presses up against him and he gasps at the suddenness of Zoro’s movement. He feels the man pushing him inside the bathroom, and he allows it because he is promised an orgasm.

Zoro glides a hand down to Sanji’s erect cock and fists it, making the man yelp in surprise again. He starts rubbing it off, long strokes on Sanji’s shaft that make the latter groan. He alternates to using both hands; one caresses the head and the other the shaft of the cock.

Sanji’s knees weaken and he slips to the floor, bringing Zoro with him who decided not to haul him up. Zoro leans back against the wall and helps Sanji lean back on his chest.

Sanji curls his toes and clutches at Zoro’s knees. The feeling of two skillful hands doing their thing on his cock is mind-blowing, and he wants to drown in the sensation. He lets out continuous small moans and sighs. He parts his eyes open when he feels Zoro’s cock hard and poking his lower back. He hurls forwards and drops on his knees and hands, and he is a little glad that Zoro didn’t take his hands off.

“You’re hard,” he notes out. “You’re rock hard!”

Zoro fans on Sanji’s back and groans. “Be quiet.”

Sanji shifts to brace himself on his forearms, his ass still in the air, pressing against Zoro’s hard-on. He loses himself in the way Zoro is jerking him off and the way he is humping his ass. It doesn’t last, though. Zoro is soon letting go of Sanji’s cock and kneeling properly on two. Sanji beneath him makes a strange strangled noise, like he’s just been denied orgasm, Zoro muses. He unzips his fly again and takes his cock out, and it’s like Sanji said, it’s rock-hard. He nudges it against Sanji’s ass hole, and he fucking hears Sanji gulp in anticipation. He pushes all the way in again, grunting at the tightness and the heat welcoming him.

Sanji mewls whorishly as his cum pours to the floor.

“From mere penetration…” Zoro marvels.

Sanji gives himself a moment, just lying there, willing the chill in his spine to go away already.

Zoro, though, doesn’t have time for that. He braces his hands one at each side of Sanji’s head, and then he moves. Sanji remains on his forearms, teeth nibbling at the back of his hand, with his ass in the air for Zoro to pound and fuck. His mind and body slowly sink under the tidings of pleasure Zoro sends with every reckless thrust of his hips.

 

Sanji sagged to the floor again after Zoro ejaculated inside of him. When he plopped his middle on the floor, the action caused all the semen Zoro pumped inside him to spill out.

Zoro cleans himself at the sink and retreats from the confined room. He fetches his coat and finally exits the cabin.

Sanji blinks sporadically at the moldered walls, his fingers twitch when cold currents of air catch him, courtesy of Zoro lacking the good grace to close the door after leaving. He remains there on the floor, just hating and feeling disgusted with himself…

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

The next Saturday was quick to arrive, too.

Sanji follows his usual routine, but this time, he actually preps himself because he knows Zoro isn’t going to do it for him. Last time, if he didn’t stop the bastard, he’d have seriously given him an anal fissure. He still remembers how those used to hurt back during his captivity.

Instead of just snacks, Sanji purchases a tent heater and a throw. And instead of a bit late, he goes to Zoro’s cabin a little earlier than usual. Last time, he returned home late. He’s already been hearing people getting attacked by boars; he doesn’t want to be the next victim.

The sky today is clear, but despite the sun, it’s still chilly. As Sanji walks up the street, he feels the tip of his nose getting stabbed by unremitting cold breeze. He enters the woods at last. Between last Saturday and this Saturday, he’s berated himself in hopes to give up whatever this he’s started but to no avail. He just can’t seem to bring himself to anything beside trudge in these woods. He doesn’t understand it either, and he was saying the truth when he first prepositioned this to Zoro. After four years, Sanji wanted to try going out again. He went out with Sabo, the half-British dude who worked part-times at a bakery. They kissed a few times, nothing more than a peck. It’s just he doesn’t find people interesting anymore, not as he used to anyway. Heck, he used to profile people because it was fun, and girls used to find that quite sexy about him. He nixed all of that after his return home from all that hell.

He is certain now that his body can’t and won’t react to anyone if it’s not Zoro.

Being trained for over four months did something to his body, made it crave the touch of hands that no longer want to get dirty touching him, and it’s entertaining: watching himself fall into the depths of degradation.

The cabin’s chimney isn’t coughing any soot, and Sanji stops in his track. He hears the thwack of wood being chopped by something metallic. Fleet-footedly, he brisked up his pace and finally showed up at the clearing of the cabin. He finds Zoro, shirtless, axing a log. Sanji stands rooted to his spot, watching Zoro being himself for he hasn’t caught up on the new presence yet. He is wearing the bleached jeans and the boots, flannel tied around his waist. He lifts the heavy axe and swipes at the middle of the log, his sweat-soaked fringe flutters with every jerk of his muscles.

A balmy breeze moves Sanji’s hair, and Zoro is soon paying attention to him.

Sanji looks away, steps forward and towards the cabin. “Keep the shirt off.” He throws over his shoulder.

Inside, he places the bags on the floor and goes in farther to stand by the table. He hears the door creak open, and he doesn’t wait. He starts working on the button of his pants.

Zoro saunters his way.

When Sanji slid his pants to his ankles, Zoro unzipped his fly.

“Do I have to wait again?” He wanted to know.

Sanji shakes his head, turns around and leans on the table. “It’s taken care of.” He assured, “do your part of the bargain now.”

Zoro gives his cock a few strokes with a hand, and the other nudges at the puckered entrance. It’s wet and a little red and puffy which asserts Sanji’s statement. Sanji claps his hands at the edge of the table until color leaves his knuckles. Zoro stops his ministrations seeing that his cock is hard and ready, and he dives into the tightness and heat again, groaning his approval.

Sanji bites his bottom lip to keep from making any noises, but he finds that’s almost impossible because Zoro’s dick wreaks havoc, that’s what it does. He keens and forces his eyes shut. Zoro hoped the other would come from being penetrated like last time so he’d wrap things up quickly, but Sanji is holding on. Zoro thrusts in him again and again, until Sanji can’t take it and comes all over the table. He fans on it with his heaving chest, and he brings the back of his hand to his lips, nibbling at it.

Zoro pulls away until only the head of his cock is buried in, and he waits.

Sanji props up on his hands now, almost standing askew, and buckles against Zoro cock, taking it all back in. He repeats it when Zoro groans. Again and again, until Zoro can’t stifle his moans and sighs anymore. Sanji stands up and rests his weight on Zoro’s, his head on the man’s broad shoulder.

Zoro can’t believe how resilient this ass hole is, taking all of him in and swallowing him whole. He hooks an arm around Sanji’s middle to bring him closer, and the other to the cock crying for attention.

“It’s… sensitive.” Sanji moaned hotly, “it’ll hurt if you touch it.”

“It looks pretty happy in my hand.” Zoro droned inside Sanji’s ear, and he sensed the way the man trembled before warm fluid coated his hand. He scoffs, “you came again.”

Sanji’s head lolls on Zoro’s shoulder and his pupils sink under his lids. “Shocker.” He hacked, now smirking.

Zoro frowns and hugs both his arms around Sanji very securely. He bends a little, and then he snaps his hips in a speed that catches Sanji off-guard.

“Bastard…!” Sanji hollers and clasps at Zoro’s arm with a hand, and the other goes to the smooth black hair. “God… feels great!” He clutches at the strands and grits his teeth together.

Zoro’s frown deepens as he continues to groan into Sanji’s ear, the side of his forehead pressing up against the warm cheek.

Sanji feels his mind melting, and nothing in him works except pleasure receptionists. “Fuck me harder…” he moans breathlessly, “fuck, it feels so good.”

Zoro closes his eyes and speeds his thrusts, the deep sound of skin hitting skin echoes in the small cabin until Zoro shoots burning come inside Sanji. The latter dropped on the table while Zoro took his cock out immediately. He watches how semen gushes out of the now-puffy hole and spills down Sanji’s thighs every time it twitches.

Sanji hears a door open and close and assumes that Zoro has just locked himself in the bathroom. He reminds himself of the deal, so instead of lingering there to who knows how long, He painstakingly puts his pants back on, his shoes too, and then leaves.

**~~~~**

Sanji’s been trying to fit 40-hour workweek into 16 hours. Saturday was looming in, closer and closer with each passing minute. He hated the rush that usually proceeded Christmas holiday. There was absolutely no excitement or looking forward for the day off because he vouches for more, one day isn’t going to cut it for him.

Taking a fervent glance at his watch, he noticed how late it’s gotten. He collects the rest of the reports that are due tomorrow and heads out, flinging a ‘good night’ to the janitor outside the school gate. He walks back home, prepares dinner after changing and all, and then resumes working on the reports.

He wakes up the next morning groggy and achy. He realizes he nodded off at some point last night and spent what was left of the night sleeping on the couch. The only good thing he managed to achieve from his impromptu doze is the fact that all the reports have been worked on, now ready to be submitted in. He checks his phone for any missed calls or unread texts, and finds a short text from his father asking him about his plans for the 25th of this month. He sends back a short text as well, letting his father know that he hasn’t decided on anything yet.

For breakfast, he gulps down some juice from the half empty cartoon that’s going to go bad in another two days, and then he gets dressed again. He brings the papers he’s expected to hand in together and heads out. Inside the teachers’ room, he finds the music teacher by her desk, shuffling through a log of some sort. He greeted her and she immediately shied when their eyes met. Sanji places the files on the vice-principal’s desk, and then he waves bye to the shy teacher again before finally exiting the room.

As he walks back towards the apartment building, biting cold currents of air pierce his face. His eyes catch the apparition of high mountains behind thick layers of fog that is surrounding the little town like satin sheets. He notes it in his head to watch the weather forecasting later before heading to Zoro’s. He predicts a vortex of snow that might reach this town by the beginning of next week, and he doesn’t have to levitate down from the heavens with holy music in the background to tell that much. He is just upset that he has to be here when it’ll snow, he absolutely can’t stand it. And just to be sure, he opens the calendar on his phone screen, and it starts to dawn on him why his father wanted to know about his plans. The 25th is going to meet the weekend, so instead of just one day off, he is going to be lucky to have four.

This warrants other plans than spending Christmas night cooped up inside that rundown sardine can of an apartment. He can take his motorbike back home and spend the holidays with his family, and he won’t have to worry about food or school for four freaking days. If he goes home, he’ll bathe in congenial company, and gorge down home-made meals.

At the same time, though, he finds himself unable to hope for any of that when he thinks of how Zoro is in the cabin, by himself.

The man’s been living there by himself for years, and it should be taken for granted. Sanji knows Zoro chose the isolation on purpose, and he is even content that the world thinks he died in the fire four years ago. Sanji wants to cut the man some slack, but the way his mind operates makes him wonder if it’ll be a good thing to leave here for four days. He knows that, between each Saturday, Zoro passes the days alone.

But it’s just so lonely.

Around three in the afternoon, the ache Sanji felt this morning after waking up intensified, accompanied by a fever. He guessed passing out on the sofa, uncovered, brought the gift. Now as he sits there at the restaurant’s booth by the window, unfinished meal on his table, he starts to debate whether he can go to Zoro’s cabin or not. He is aware that more exertion will only spike the fever up, and trudging inside the woods is exertion enough. Yet, this part of him, the part he’s always fought to quench, rebels against the idea. The deal was Saturdays only, so he doesn’t know how Zoro would react if he dropped by on a Wednesday. The man is fucking unpredictable. What’s more, Sanji can’t get what’s going on through the man’s head whenever Sanji drops his pants and parts his legs.

Zoro gets hard, despite everything he said the first time Sanji undressed in front of him. His cock shouldn’t get erect if he really didn’t desire Sanji the way he used to four years ago. As thought, Zoro’s high and mighty talk crumbles to the floor when he is fucking Sanji’s ass.

Sanji doesn’t know if it’s the fever or these thoughts that rid of his appetite, he bets on the latter.

**~~~~**

By the time he walked out, rain-charged clouds have already conquered the town. He adjusts the collar of his jacket and jogs to a nearby thrift shop. He purchases a hooded flannel and two jeans, and he also buys an insulated jacket. Next, he heads to a grocery store and buys anything edible. He also doesn’t forget to buy condoms. Zoro always ejaculates inside of him and it causes him uncomfortable stomachaches afterward. After exiting the door of the shop, he seriously considers riding his bike. He’s already carrying a lot of bags, and with the rain falling nonstop like this, everything he’s purchased might ruin. He takes another look at his clock to see if he can make it, but it’s half past four and Zoro has expressly said for him to come before dusk. No, not really; he didn’t. Still, for Zoro to talk, that’s something. He forgets about using his vehicle today, and instead, rushes to the woods on his legs.

 

Sanji bursts through the door of the cabin like he was pushed inside by someone. He swivels around to shut the door, lock it in the face of the unrelenting storm. The crackling of fire greets him, along with a familiar silence. He reels around again, hoping to spot Zoro on the armchair. He does. Sanji’s been to hell and back. He survived a car crush, he survived epilepsy and he even survived months of torture. He bounced back from all of that –anyone else wouldn’t. But he is, suddenly, taken aback by the flutter of his heart when his eyes met Zoro’s. He found him on the armchair by the fireplace, a book in hand.

Sanji felt his heart flutter.

He doesn’t know if it’s the fever acting up, or what. He knows his heart always fluttered whenever Zoro was spotted by his eyes or heard by his ears, and even his stomach used to churn. However, this kind of flutters is different. Oh God, too different.

Zoro’s unfathomable face contorts as if he’s just been told dogs can fly. He closes the book and flings it to the pile. He stands up at the same time Sanji kicks off his boots. He goes to the nightstand and takes out a short towel, and then the two of them walk towards each other and stop by the table.

“Dry your hair first.” Zoro tosses the towel to Sanji and it lands on his chest.

Sanji lets the bags drop by his legs to clutch a hand at the towel. He feels droplets of water slide down his face to accumulate under the tip of his jaw. He quickly drops the towel on his head, and starts ruffling.

Zoro snorts and the other looked up. “It’s just” he started, “you take this deal too seriously.”

“There’s only one Saturday in a week.” Sanji justified.

“Even if,” Zoro crossed his arms over his broad chest, shrug deceptively good-natured. “It’s not ‘fuck or die’, Ji.”

Said man lets the words sink home and then he glares furiously at him, “I’m here, so we might as well fuck.”

Zoro blows out a small sigh, “but are you sure?” he wondered, now running appraising eyes over him. “You don’t look too well.”

Sanji actually marvels at the fact that Zoro could pinpoint his condition. He quickly shakes his head though, dismissing the sharp observation. “Just a slight fever,” he admitted, now sliding the towel off his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Zoro says nothing to the obvious lie.

Sanji walks past him and to the bed, “I’d have taken a shower if you actually had hot water running.”

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t a five star hotel.” Zoro seethed.

Sanji’s hands swipe at the lapses of his jacket but fail to get the garment off. He curses and mutters swear words to no one. Suddenly, he feels larger hands help him take the damp jacket off.

“You too,” he whispers, breathlessly. “Lose the sweater.”

“Yea, yea” Zoro says, he scowls at the heat vibes rolling off Sanji. “Undress first and then I’ll follow.”

Sanji prods the hems of his pullover and then starts tagging at them, finally getting it off his head with Zoro’s aid. When the piece of garment went past his face, the room swirled in his head. He fanned back on Zoro with a barely stifled groan, “so dizzy.”

Zoro leads Sanji to the side of the bed and sits him down. “You should lie down.”

Sanji shakes his head in disapproval, but the movement only causes the room to spin more. He grunts and drops back on the sheeted mattress, slightly wet strands spilling on the cover. “Lie down with me.”

Zoro doesn’t answer. He kneels on the bed and works on Sanji’s zipper. He takes his jeans off eventually, stripping him down to his boxers.

Sanji makes soft noises before finally passing out.

Zoro tucks him under the cover and nestles his head on the pillow, and then he adds the throw Sanji brought last Saturday over the cover. He stands up, zeroing in on the sleeping man and trying to figure out his next step. He picks out the towel Sanji dropped and rinses it in cold water. He returns to Sanji’s side and puts the towel on his burning forehead.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

The howl of the wind developed to prolonged whistles when the clock hit 2 in the morning. Sanji squirms under the covers and finally cracks his eyes open. He groans and props his head off the pillow, making the towel slip off. He looks around at the dim room, dazedly, finding Zoro on the armchair again. Zoro has prompted up at the muffled groan, and was now looking at Sanji who looked half asleep.

“What time is it?” He wanted to know.

Zoro provided, “A little past two.”

Sanji pouts like a freaking kid denied access to candy, “it’s still early,” he says, and added “and cold. Come to bed.”

The man arches a surprised brow. “Is it ok?”

“Why wouldn’t it be, it’s your bed, after all.” Saying so, Sanji sinks down into the pillows with a huff.

Zoro shrugs and tiptoes to the bed, wincing every time the panels moaned under his soles. He crawls into the bed from the other side, and apparently, Sanji notices the dib of the added weight. He turns to lie on his back, his sleepy eyes trying to find Zoro. Zoro is kneeling on two, motions hold off in hopes for Sanji to fall back asleep, but the man latches weekly at his clothes.

“It’s so cold, hurry.”

Zoro takes off his coat and drapes it over Sanji, and then he slides under the covers and lies on his side. He paused suddenly when Sanji clang to him, shivering and muttering nonsense. Zoro gets the hem of the cover up to his ear. He watches with rapt how Sanji, still shivering like a leaf, nuzzles up against his chest. He bets he’s savoring up some body heat, so he lets him be.

As Zoro rests there on his side, a mop of blonde hair buried under the covers and huddled up to his chest is all he can see from his angle. He assures himself that he has never seen this side of Sanji; clingy, and spoiled with a hint of childishness. He doesn’t know to what he should contribute the causes. He knows Sanji hates him with a passion that could set these woods on fire. He thinks back on the events from four years ago and, although he can’t remember much from the times he was under hypnosis, he remembers the dreams he used to see. He also remembers the time he saw Sanji in his clinic with his friend. The two of them had looked like the world had interest in nothing but making them miserable, and they looked like they had lost their trust in everything but themselves. As soon as Zoro saw him, flashes of obscene dreams he’d been having about the man resurfaced and he felt like Sanji had the answers. It didn’t make sense at the time because he’d never seen Sanji before that day, and it was strange to feel the familiarity.

The aftermath of the accident rattled him and he lives in shame, guilt and fear, but it really can’t compare to what Sanji is still going through, which doesn’t add up.

Sanji withstood four or five months of daily torture. He always tried to resist but, with his friend held hostage and as leverage, he always succumbed to Zoro’s demands. Every day, he tried to not lose his sanity, and he tried to keep his hope alive that they’d be saved and that Zoro would get what he deserved. It worked.

But it still doesn’t add up.

The way he is curled up and nestled against his chest –the man who took his innocence away, it doesn’t add up that he comes back every Saturday to part his legs and get fucked by the same man who planted horrors in him.

On a second thought, maybe Sanji is far smarter than he gave him credit for. Maybe, he is scheming to wrap his webs around Zoro until he has no escape routes, and then he’ll crush him. It’s not that far-fetched. In any case, Zoro will deserve it.

The only reason why he escaped the fire wasn’t because he wanted to live more. No. He wanted to live because he didn’t deserve to die easily after everything he’d done to people, to Sanji’s friends. God, he can’t even remember and it’s unfair to them. They suffered under his hands, and who knows how many Hancock had made him torture and kill.

He can tell, though, that Sanji was the only one whom he’d raped.

Now, as he eyes the sleeping man snuggling next to his chest, strange thoughts start to swarm him. This is the first time in years that he and Sanji sleep on the same bed without having sex. It is, somehow, pleasant. The only times Sanji shows up here is to fuck and, usually, Zoro has to get in the mood so it wouldn’t upset Sanji. So it wouldn’t wound his pride, and if his pride is wounded, there’s no telling of what he might do.

A part of Zoro would like Sanji to come here for more than just sex. He knows he has nothing to offer, besides the horrible memories and the poignant reminders, that is. However, he genuinely worries for Sanji’s condition. He isn’t taking care of himself, and, obviously, he isn’t getting enough sleep. He is getting sick and he is also avoiding food. Zoro has noticed how Sanji’s weight has dropped a few kilos. He has noticed the sunken eye sockets and the hollow cheeks. If he keeps this up, he’ll fade in a matter of days.

Maybe it isn’t such a good plan for them to meet up.

Maybe, Zoro should get his things and go away without leaving a trace behind.

He’d give anything to go back in time and correct everything. He’d give his life. Yet, he knows it can’t be done.

He ruined many people’s lives and he is still ruining Sanji’s –he wraps his arm around Sanji’s middle– he brings about nothing but death and despair. If Sanji stays here, he’ll be swallowed by this suffocating darkness, too. And Zoro doesn’t want that to happen, not anymore. He wants Sanji, and even his friend, to have good lives. He wants them to move on and marry and have kids.

Sanji suddenly moans softly under his chin, as though responding to his thoughts. Zoro tightens his hold around him and brings him closer.

Earlier, when Sanji walked in through the door, the first thing Zoro noticed beside his drenched appearance was the way his eyes gleamed like shining pearls underwater, like crystals in caves. His eyes harbored compassion and care … and things Zoro has never felt from another human but him.

This guy, this Sanji, how is he still capable of caring for someone who wronged him for too long?

Zoro feels the corners of his eyes burn, but no matter how much he wills himself to cry, it never happens. He knows he isn’t permitted any of it, not after the things he’d done. So sentiments like compassion and care… they will continue to be elements of a fairy tale.

He can’t, however, swim with the tide. He won’t be pivoted the way Sanji wants him to. If he gives in now, and if he allows his feelings to come into play, he’s dead. Sanji might crush him eventually, just to get him for what he did, and maybe more. He won’t allow himself to relent to whatever these things he is feeling just holding Sanji closer to him like this. But, dear God, the touch of someone else… he’s never experienced this warmth.

 

Zoro rouses from a heavy slumber, taking in the shafts of morning light and waiting for his hazy vision to focus. He becomes aware, then, of the fact that he dropped his guard and fell asleep. His vision finally focuses, and the feeling he gets from seeing Sanji’s peaceful sleeping face resembles the tranquility he gets from watching a meadow soaked in warm sunrays. His arm is still draped on the man’s middle securing him near, so he wouldn’t be taken away, he assumes. He doesn’t know why. What he does know, though, is that Sanji won’t have to be taken away because once he’ll wake up, he’ll demand to be freed.

The most amazing thing about this, however, is the hand Sanji has draped on Zoro’s.

 

Sanji’s pupils quiver under his closed lids before finally letting the light shed on them. The scent of fresh loam races to his nostrils, and he takes in a long lungful before letting it out in a small yawn. He feels the touch of familiar skin under his fingertips, and he feels its muscles twitching. His head lolls on the pillow to the side, cheek meeting the fabric. He goes wide-eyed for a beat.

Zoro’s dark eyes are on his. They aren’t cruel, and they aren’t even cold. They’re soft and a little, dare he say, smiling. Sanji’s breathing events out bit by bit, falling into a slow rhythm. He holds eyes contact with Zoro, eyes switching from beholding the change in the usually cruel eyes to the small lips, the faint scar he himself carved, and then back to the eyes. He takes in all of Zoro’s face.

Zoro’s heart decides to leap beneath that bone cage of his. The way Sanji is looking at him is that of a lover… this can’t be happening. All Sanji gave him are hard and furious glares, not this. This enamored look. This is dangerous. This is very dangerous… but at the same time so fucking overwhelming. For the first time, Sanji is actually _seeing_ him, looking at _him._

Sanji moves his hand a little, and when the action didn’t stir any undesirable reactions from Zoro, he risked more. He starts stroking the arm, slow, sensual movements. He notices how Zoro’s stiff muscles soften under his ministrations, and the resultant feeling is something he’s never expected someone to rouse in him, not after thinking his heart had grown numb.

Zoro reminds himself of the resolve he set for last night, and starts to harden his glare.

At the hardened glare, Sanji holds off all motions. He starts to feel Zoro slowly pulling his arm away, and the way their fingers brushed before Zoro removed his hand completely was so lovely, unusually so.  Realizing that Zoro is trying to cover up whatever this moment they’ve just had, Sanji’s hand darts to the man’s wrist.

“Wait,” he croaks out the same time Zoro is sitting up, “the deal. We didn’t do it last night.”

“It’s not Saturday anymore.” Zoro defends.

Sanji looks up at him, face set in a deep scowl. “The deal was once a week,” he reminds.

“Lively at ass o’clock in the morning” he muttered to himself, now scrubbing a hand over his face. “I get it.” He clicked his lips in exasperation, “did you bring any lube?”

Sanji returns his hand to his chest and nods, “in the chest pocket of my jacket.”

Zoro picks out the garment, feels about its pockets and finally fishes out the small bottle of lube and the box of condom. He eyes the items with a pair of quizzical eyes before eying Sanji who blushes under the look and faces away, now lying on his side.

“Stomachaches” he reasoned.

Zoro hums part in understanding and part in amusement. “You’re putting one on too” he said, now dropping the jacket on the floor again, “can’t have you staining the sheets.”

Sanji’s pupils take in the formation of the wall while Zoro settles behind him. “It’s not my size though.”

Zoro removes the cover, revealing Sanji’s naked body. He catches sight of the bulge growing in size but decides not to make any comments. Sanji grunts in displeasure as cold air engulfed whatever visible of his skin. Zoro props on his elbow behind Zoro’s back, he flings a pack of condom to Sanji while telling him to put it on himself. He slides his boxers down and, again, ignores the way Sanji shivers. After making sure Sanji put on the condom, he pours a remarkable quantity of lube on his hand and brings it to Sanji’s ass. Sanji hisses loudly the moment lube is smeared over his skin, but he grits his teeth anyhow.

 

The squelch caused by the wet friction makes Sanji blush all the way to his ears, and Zoro is still using just his fingers. But it feels amazing. Zoro is nudging his three fingers against Sanji’s good spot, making him arch and spasm then finally come.

Zoro yanks his fingers out. He brings two other condoms, he tosses one to Sanji again and shuffles a little to get his properly around his own cock, and then he immobilizes Sanji by the hip. Sanji emerges from the haze of his afterglow and gulps. After putting the rubber on, Zoro slowly pushes his cock in, groaning again because the anticipated feeling didn’t disappoint. He slides his hand to Sanji’s knee and lifts it up. His head ducks down to Sanji’s neck so that his mouth is hovering over the flushed ear.

Sanji feels hot breath fanning on the side of his neck, and so his eyes roll under his head. “Move already” he breathes out.

Zoro follows the command, thrusting into those flesh walls entombing his cock and pleasing it. He watches how Sanji’s neck stretches every time his head lolls to the other side, wanting to bury his face into the pillows but failing to. He watches how one of Sanji’s hands clutches at the sheets beneath, the other chases after his hair, finally gripping a few strands and Zoro allows it. He also watches how Sanji parts his lips and lets out sweet moans and then nibbles at his thumb to probably keep from moaning out loud.

Zoro is slowly but surely losing his mind…

Sanji hears Zoro groaning and sighing into his ear, and the resultant shudders from just that is a thing of wonder. He feels a looming climax that plans to take over awaits a push, so Sanji grants it. “Deeper,” he moans, “I want it deeper…”

Zoro hooks his arm under the nook of Sanji’s leg and tags until he has more space. He rests his forehead on Sanji’s neck and snaps his hips, thrusting deeper.

Sanji hacked out a yelp of surprise, but the yelp soon turned into wanton moans and whimpers as if Zoro’s dick was giving him a piece of heaven. It turns Zoro on so fucking much that, instead of thrusting, he rams that dick into Sanji’s ass hole. It’s going to stretch, he is pretty sure, it’s going take the size of his cock and isn’t that terrific.

“Oh God, yes!” Sanji keened, saliva-slicked tongue snaking out to lick along his upper plump lip. “Fuck me hard! You’re stirring up my insides, it feels so fucking good!”

Zoro smirks to himself at the compliment, and carries on his magic.

The hand Sanji had over Zoro’s head grips tightly on the smooth strands, and he turns his face towards Zoro’s. The man is looking down at him with this look of bare hunger and raw lust that makes him all dizzy and hot. Hotter, he’d fucking melt. “Amazing,” he whimpers, and tears soon spill down his cheeks. “Harder! Give it to me harder!”

Despite the almost nonexistent distance between their mouths, they don’t kiss. They can’t, and shouldn’t. This is, after all, physical. No emotions are involved, and kissing would alter that meaning.

Sanji wonders: if two people shared the same past he and Zoro shares, would they still have sex so passionately like this?

Unbeknownst to him, Zoro’s been thinking the same thing the moment he endeavored to do whatever Sanji pleased in bed.

When Zoro ejaculated and pulled his cock out, Sanji’s ass hole was gaping like a wormhole the size of Zoro’s dick. He is a little upset, though. If he didn’t wear the condom, Sanji’s ass hole would have been gushing jizz out by now and it’d have been quite the sight.

Sanji, however, doesn’t stir after the climax. He doesn’t even twitch as Zoro feels his gaping hole. Worry finally kicks in because, in any other day, Sanji would have elbowed him in the face for treating him like a rare specimen. Zoro sits up and calls Sanji out, but the man, again, doesn’t move or give any indication that he will. Zoro taps at his cheek, and then it happens, he senses the odd heat weaves Sanji is giving off.

“Shit…”

The sex and, thus, the exertion must have spiked up the fever. It isn’t just slight warmth anymore. Sanji is breathing shallowly and perspiration is running down his face. Zoro places two fingertips on Sanji’s pulse point in his neck, his eyes widening at the speeded-up heartbeats.

Sanji has, yet again, left him in another state of worry.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't reply to your comments and sorry for this overdue update, been very sick and couldn't do more than sleep.

 

It’s the same as every morning he awoke to in this cabin; he catches the dim rays of light flitting around the room, and he stares at the logs forming the ceiling. What makes this time different, though, is the ease with which he sits up in bed. He already expected to find it empty judging by the deafening silence and the absence of warmth beside him, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when he doesn’t find Zoro lounging on the armchair or loitering by the kitchen.

He takes a searching look at himself, finally is able to contribute the cause of him feeling chilly all over. He isn’t wearing any clothes, again. Sanji is confused: in any other day, he’d have raised hell about it, but it just doesn’t matter. He doesn’t remember much of last night’s events, or even after he passed out this morning due to his fever which he is pretty sure Zoro nursed him back to health from, but he knows something has changed.

He remembers waking up this morning and having the strangest moment with Zoro.

He knows he didn’t hate it. He also knows he didn’t like it, either.

He isn’t sure of anything anymore.

Something outside the window steals his attention and he is soon pulling the throw and making his way to it. He wraps the throw around him and stands by the window. The look of lost and confusion slowly morphs into delight and glee as a flake of snow swings smoothly in the air before landing on the window sill. Sanji gazes up at the sky as it unleashes more, and he is speechless to witness how the snow coats the earth white.

 

Zoro stumbles into the cabin again. The soles of his boots and the shoulders of his coat covered in snow, his hair, too. He shakes his head and ruffles his hair, and the snowy dust scatters off his smooth strands. Amidst his action, his eyes land on the bed. Finding it empty, he looks around with a small frown, but it dissipated quickly when he saw Sanji standing next to the window.

He kicks off his boots and marches in, the bags in his hands scratching. He lays them down on the counter and then, slowly, walks up to Sanji.

He finds the man beholding the snow dropping outside with a childish amusement. He sees the gleam within his eyes and the twitch in his wide, merry smile. He has never seen Sanji look this happy before. Not in his dreams and nightmares, and certainly not after they met again. It starts doing things to his body. He starts to feel a good kind of numbness slowly spreading out, starting from his toes. He slowly loses sensation of the ground beneath him, and he feels like a balloon, floating.

Sanji realizes looking away from the window is hard to do, especially with the snow falling majestically like that. But then again, from the corner of his eyes he can see Zoro’s on his profile, studying him. He faces the man, but with the excitement of witnessing the snow still soaring within him, he keeps the smile plastered on.

As soon as Sanji’s gleaming eyes landed on his, Zoro could feel something burst inside his chest with vigor and vivacious joy. It takes all he has in power not to palm the man’s cheek and connect their lips together–

“I haven’t seen snow in years.” Sanji suddenly speaks, taking Zoro out of his weird and wonderful musings. “I guess I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

Zoro skids his eyes to Sanji’s long neck, scattered with moles. He remembers nibbling and blowing hot breath on it while having sex this morning. Then he aims his stare lower to Sanji’s shoulders, and he can tell the man tried to cover them with the throw but it must have kept slipping down so he eventually gave up. He follows the length of the throw to the floor, and the way it’s flung on it like a king’s cape is so funny and fitting at the same time, Zoro is stumped again.

Sanji’s smile slowly wanes at the way Zoro’s eyes are taking in all of him.

“It snows here every year.” Zoro said, surprising even himself. He looks up again into the almond-shaped eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”

Sanji blinks, long lashes luring Zoro closer. Sanji looks out the window glass again, and his features lit up. “Will it be a white Christmas this year then?”

Zoro shrugs slightly, “Probably.”

Sanji looks at him again and snorts, “It’s hard to imagine you as a kid opening up presents by the Christmas tree.”

“It’s hard to imagine a grown ass man asking about Christmas, yet here you are, defying the logic.” Zoro counters.

Sanji curls his lips, “Touché.”

“Come on,” Zoro juts his head towards the bed, “I finally managed to bring your fever down, don’t be reckless.”

“Give me two minutes.” Sanji beseeches.

Zoro hardens his glare, “Back to bed, Ji.”

Sanji pouts and watches the snow with a pair of sorrowful eyes, as if he’ll be walking up to the guillotine next for his death.

“One minute.” Zoro finds himself uttering, briskly.

Sanji’s lips are already parting into a wide grin. He nods to the man and scoots closer to the window, resting his palm on its glass until it condenses.

Zoro lingers there watching the man who used to be his captive; face aglow and smile radiant. Zoro’s lived in this cabin for a few years now, and during that time, only once did he get a chance to see something that Sanji is now reminding him of:

He’d finished a good hunt and had two wild rabbits, which he’d caught in the snares he had set up prior to that, wrapped and dangling down his shoulders. The sun changed its angle a little but it was enough to wash the landscapes with magenta hues. Zoro stopped in his tracks to behold the magic weaving before him. For the first time, he felt something. He felt an inner peace he never thought he would. It wasn’t dominant. But it was there.

Looking at Sanji now, that peacefulness starts to bubble up again. And compared to this morning, it’s overflowing now. He steps closer to him; his eyes glazed with want and need. He is a few inches taller so he ducks his head to Sanji’s neck, and he feels the way Sanji freezes. He frowns but doesn’t stop. He parts his lips slightly and brings them closer to the faintly feverish skin.

Sanji doesn’t take his eyes off the snow, despite how Zoro is –is he kissing his neck?

Zoro’s parted lips touch the skin, his wet and hot breath making it shudder. He hears Sanji’s small sigh, and he fucking loves it. He closes his lips on the skin, opens them only to close them again. The wet noises entice him to do more.

Sanji’s pupils roll under his lids and his lips part open. He slowly tilts his head to the side and lets out a contented moan.

Zoro takes that as his cue and presses up closer. His tongue snakes out, licking and rejoicing at the way it makes Sanji’s tremble. One of Zoro’s hands slides through the opening between each seam of the throw, and rests it on Sanji’s hip. The other pulls the throw from the back, urging Sanji to let it slip down to the floor.

Sanji complies, letting go of the throw. It drops to their feet. The arm he had braced on the window gives out and he fans on the wall, breathless. The vapor outcast from his mouth fogs the glass every time he exhales.

Zoro smirks to himself. Just a kiss and Sanji was already struggling to stay on his legs. He decides to go for more to test Sanji’s endurance. He stands behind him and stares at the scars and welts spoiling the beauty of his pale skin. He brings his hands to the characters engraved and ghosts his fingertips on them. His smirk deepened when Sanji hissed. He eyes the scarred back, and the perky ass and then the long legs. He salivates at the sight and finds himself gulping. He’d been fucking this man but never really stopped to admire what he was pinning down and thrusting into.  He glides his hands to Sanji’s ass, very slowly, teasing and maddening.

Sanji clasps a hand on the glass and nibbles at its back, now making more throaty noises.

Zoro swivels his hands towards the groin area, just ghosting over the skin. He catches sight of Sanji’s cock, rising up to the odd attention. He returns his lips to the hollow of Sanji’s neck, preferring to keep his hands on the man’s hips. He starts tonguing the area, and at the same time, he grinds against Sanji’s ass because of course he is hard. Both of them are.

Sanji sticks his ass out a little and his neck, too. He closes his eyes and allows his moans free.

Zoro suckles on the skin in earnest. He brings a hand to Sanji’s fair hair, clutches a fistful and then yanks, making Sanji groan hotly. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and groans.

Sanji whimpers. He closes his eyes and tears soon roll down his cheeks.

Zoro hears a muffled thump coming from the floor, he looks down and the glittering milky cum pooled between Sanji’s parted feet tells him that what he’d wanted to happen, happened. He feels Sanji slowly starting to slide down so he helps him up. He steps away and towards the table.

“Let’s eat.”

 

 

The holidays started on Friday the 22nd of December, and Zoro disappeared on Thursday 21st.

 

Sanji is inside a dingy restaurant, the only place that agreed to open on a Christmas day. He is sitting in the booth by the window. His fingers moving in idle patterns on the table and eyes looking at the snowflakes falling down to add in inches in the white cover spread on town. There’s just him and an old man by the counter who ordered a large bowl of ramen, like the one on his table and which has been left untouched.

 

_“Let’s eat.”_

_Sanji’s eyes trailed the man’s broad back. He felt worry swirl within him when Zoro pulled the chair back, ready to sit._

_“I can’t.”_

_Zoro held off all movements and looked up, at him. He eyed his collar in a way that suggested he wanted to bury his mouth in it again, switched to look at the bare chest, and then the withered cock nested between Sanji’s thighs. He let out a small sigh and looked away altogether._

_“There’s a kettle on the fire over there,” he said, “there’s hot water in it. Wash up.”_

_Sanji picked up the throw and left his own mess behind, and then flung the piece of covering on the bed before he headed to the fireplace where the kettle had been placed. He lifted it and felt the hot air pushing him back. He ignored it and scurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind._

_When he stepped out of the confined space with a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Zoro still sitting at the table with a large bowl in front of him. He walked to the bed again, eyed the layers of neatly folded and clean clothes. He glanced over at the profile of the man as a twinge of shallow gloom engulfed him at the lonely face, and then resumed wearing the warm garments. He approached the table but Zoro hooked a thump over his shoulder, ushering to the fireplace._

_“Had to reheat it,” he said, “was starting to become soggy.”_

_Sanji nodded and swiveled to take his bowl off the carroty embers. He returned to the table again and sat on the same chair from the other day, and delighted at the sight of black bean sauce noodles still popping bubbles._

_“Where did you get this?”_

_Zoro paused for a beat but quickly resumed eating, “I bought it.”_

_Sanji furrowed, “how?”_

_Zoro glared at him and the blond immediately clamped down. Not for too long, though._

_“I brought canned fish with me, you know.”_

_Zoro scoffs, looking surprisingly amused. “Why would I eat garbage food when I can catch trout in the river?”_

_Fair enough._

_Sanji succumbed to silence after that because he thought it was wiser. He and Zoro didn’t talk except for when Sanji finally decided to go back to his place. Zoro stood up and offered to walk him back since the roads had been covered in snow, to which Sanji agreed with a jerky nod._

_The walk on the snow-layered road was silent, too. The only voices that interrupted that silence were the intermittent crunching of their boots on the snow. When they finally reached the tree lines that overlook the town, Zoro just turned and walked back the same road without a word. Sanji’s hopeful eyes dulled and his face sagged. He’d been planning to ask Zoro to come over to spend the Christmas with him but it became obvious the man had plans of his own._

 

The waiter nears his table and says something about closing time, and Sanji wakes up from his flashbacks. He pays the bill and vacates the restaurant. He stands at the curb outside and scans the street illuminated by glowing festive lights. He thrusts his hands into his pockets and marches forward, snowflakes still falling and landing on the top of his head and shoulders.

 

_On Thursday, Sanji decided to muster his courage and go see Zoro, maybe even convince him to spending Christmas together. He rode his bike on the road that was still covered in snow and finally reached Zoro’s cabin. He’d been losing sleep over this, thinking and trying to craft up ideas on how to start the topic because Zoro and Sanji weren’t friends, there were benefits but they weren’t friends. It became a whole different thing when he found a dozen of strange men inside the cabin, but no Zoro._

_The boisterous men had been laughing when Sanji strolled in, bare confusion on his face._

_“Who’re you?” one of them asked, in his hand was a can of fish Sanji had brought the previous week._

_“I should be asking you that,” he countered, slowly taking his gloves off. “This isn’t your place.”_

_“It’s yours?” Another one asked, he looked so Alpha and was most likely the leader or whatever of them._

_Sanji gulped and shook his head, “it’s my friend’s.” He winced at his own wording._

_“Oh, I apologize.” The middle-aged man said on a smile. “We, my friends here and I, are hunters.”_

_Sanji eyed the said men who jutted and nodded their chins at him. He nodded back and faced the leader again, “you hunt what, exactly?”_

_“Anything legal” He said in response, “but mostly boars.”_

_“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”_

_The man scratched his temple with a calloused hand, “received news that a blizzard is gonna hit tonight,” he said, “we didn’t have time to go back and return since we’re waking up at dawn anyway, soon as we found the cabin we settled in.”_

_“You can’t just barge in into people’s places.”_

_“I know. We’re sorry.” He said, face falling. “We’re going to bail at first sun ray.”_

_Sanji allowed the info to sink home and slowly nodded, now he chewed his bottom lip and looked around, “where’s Zo–” he cut himself off and glared at the man, “where’s my friend, anyway?”_

_“Dunno,” he said, “place was empty when we arrived.”_

 

Now that Sanji thinks of it, he’d have realized what was going on after he spent the entire night there and Zoro still didn’t show up.

 

_By the first ray, the hunters upped and left with their firearms tucked under their armpits. Sanji waited again until seven thirty and went back to the school. He returned around six in the evening again, to see if Zoro was back. He wasn’t._

_On Friday, Sanji took his bike and rode to the cabin. He’d been so sure Zoro would be there but had the biggest surprise when he found the place empty. The fireplace was cold, so was the bed. The things Sanji had brought before were still in their bags, except for the things the hunters used and ate. He strode out, feet trudging. He surveyed the mountains and trees surrounding the cabin, the angry clouds and the hiding half moon._

_He decided to spend the night and hoped Zoro would be home already when he woke up._

_He wasn’t._

_Sanji put on his jacket and dashed outside, jaw slack and eyes wide. He searched the woods, places that took him back to the time Zoro had chased him and he had run for his life. Despite that, he lingered there with this flaming hope to find Zoro because there was nothing in the cabin that suggested he really left. But the man himself wasn’t there, hadn’t been in days._

_In a moment of frenzy, Sanji parted his lips and screamed hmself hoarse._

_He was becoming someone that he’s not. He was afraid he was losing himself but all that mattered was Zoro. He screamed because, more than the thought of his sanity finally buying the farm, he was scared Zoro was really and seriously gone._

 

He adjusts his woolen scarf over his nose and returns his hand into his pocket.

Just ahead in the almost vacant alley, Sanji sees a box from which he hears noises coming. He approaches it very carefully, and his gloomy face lightens up at the sight of the golden retriever puppy with no name tag. People still do stuff like this, seriously, and in a day like this? He crouches by it and picks the whimpering puppy up to his chest. He pets the back of its ears and it purrs in response.

He can take it home but what about after the holidays, who would take care of it when Sanji is at work?

His logical side finally wins over and his face falls again. He does want to pick up the puppy, but he doesn’t want to do a half-assed job of looking after it. He’s pretty sure that, since he stopped to check the puppy, others will and someone will eventually take it home.

With that in mind, Sanji places the puppy back in the cartoon box and walks ahead.

 

He’d ignored his father’s as well as Luffy’s calls when they started calling soon after Zoro disappeared, what with him pondering the possibility of the man never coming back, and eventually had turned their invitation down.

He should be home, with his family, celebrating this special eve together.

He sighs and pauses in his track, shoulders slumping. He isn’t a good son, is he? Favoring the fantasy or whatever the fuck Zoro gives him over the tender smiles and joyful atmosphere of the people who love him the most. He guesses with his current mindset, there’s no way he can face his family.

He can’t do one thing right.

He turns and faces the way he came from, his footprints slowly getting covered again by the falling snow. He lets out another sigh and walks the road back to where he saw the box. If he can’t make himself or his family happy, he can at least try and do one good in this world. Zoro was gone, probably to never come back. But life doesn’t stop at that, and Sanji, deep down, he knows it. He just doesn’t know how it’s going to be for him from now on, coming to the realization that Zoro is gone.

Just beyond the haze, near the light pole where he’d left the puppy in the box, he sees a man dressed in black crouching by it. Sanji scowls and approaches the man, who suddenly lifted the puppy and started to walk ahead, and then scurries after him.

“Hey, you!” he calls out, “stop! That puppy isn’t yours.”

The man grinds to a sudden halt, but doesn’t turn around.

Sanji also comes to an abrupt stop, face still scowling. As the haze of snow and wind ebbs, the broad back of the strange man starts to seem very familiar. Sanji’s lips part and the scowl soon morphs into something else, something that prompts tears in his eyes.

“Zoro?” He called again, incredulously.

The man reels around very slowly, the puppy tucked under his black coat with just its head popping out, whole brown eyes sparkling up at him.

“You ignored him.”

Sanji palms his mouth and his tears break free, streaming down his blushing cheeks. “What the hell” he hiccupped, “what’ you doing here, Zoro?”

Said man shrugged, “was running a few errands.”

Sanji’s crying face hardens, “for four freaking days?”

Zoro pets the puppy’s head and remains silent.

Sanji regains his composure and exhales, a long breath of relief. “I thought you were gone.”

“Obviously, I’m not.” Zoro stated.

Sanji runs his fingers through his hair and flakes of snow slide down. He takes a step forward, and another and another until he’s standing a stride length away from Zoro. He looks up into his eyes and then at the puppy, “I came back with the intention to take him with me.”

Zoro only continued to pet the puppy.

Up close, Zoro looks like he’s gained a little weight. His complexion looks better and the one-week old stubble suits him quite a lot. He also sounds… cheerful? Sanji berates himself inwardly for even thinking that, especially when he doesn’t know where the man has been if not in the cabin. He watches how Zoro’s long fingers brush the puppy’s fur with the care of a mother. He imagines that tender touch on his hair, on his body… fuck; he’s going to become hard just thinking about it.

“Zoro,” he spoke, gaining the man’s attention. “They say the storm is not gonna lit up soon, why don’t you come over to my place?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was exchanging songs with a friend here on AO3 and by chance I read the tags of this story... *covers face and blushes* I feel like I owe you guys an apology because of what I made you go through (read). Haha!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter inspired by: Banks - Mind Games (Instrumental)

 

 

The front door opens with a rattle, and Sanji’s hand slides in first, groping the wall for the switch. He clicks it and steps in, followed by Zoro who is still hugging the puppy to his chest. He kicks his shoes off and saunters in, now working his jacket open.

“I have a chair pad somewhere,” he started, finally managing to remove his jacket and hang it on the wall rack. “Let me see if I can find it.”

Zoro remained by the door, eyes searching the apartment.

“You can come in, you know.” Sanji scoffs. He shakes his head a little and disappears into the inside of the aforementioned apartment.

Zoro takes off his boots and coat, and places the puppy on the floor. He watches it teeter and totter before finally regaining its balance, and then he steps in to further inspect the small place. Sanji then appears before him with a gleeful face as he shows him the marine blue chair pad in his hands.

“Found it in the linen closet.” He reports, now going down to his knees to lift the puppy. He cradles it and smiles. “It’s a guy, right?”

Zoro said nothing which made Sanji look up.

“It’s a he, right?”

Zoro nods.

“What do we call you, huh?” He asked the puppy, and then looked up again at Zoron. “I’ve prepared the bathroom for you, I mean if you want to take a shower.” He trailed off, “I’m about to start dinner preparations, so take your time.”

Zoro’s heavy-lidded eyes remain on Sanji’s, almost unnerving. He studies the way Sanji’s cheerful face falls and how he slowly hugs the puppy to him, tighter. He ruffles his hair and brushes past them.

Realizing the man was taking his advice on taking that shower, Sanji quickly stands erect. “It’s the second door on your left.”

 

He sprinkles some garlic powder on the two chicken breasts he placed on the counter, and the sound of water gushing from the shower head confirms the wonderful fact that Zoro wasn’t gone anymore. It’s almost unbelievable when he thinks about it; just a few days ago he was looking everywhere but couldn’t find the man, now he’s inside his bathroom. Sanji already left his shaving kit and his clothes in there, praying they’d fit. He did pick the over-sized clothing so Zoro wouldn’t have trouble getting the dark purple sweatshirt past his head.

It’s wonderful.

Not long ago, he was struggling to find a way to convince Zoro to spending Christmas Eve with him. He didn’t have to anymore. Zoro is here, in his _bathroom_.

 

Zoro steps out, clean-shaven and dressed properly in Sanji’s clothes that fitted him almost too perfectly. The scent of food lures him and he saunters back to the living room, finding Sanji and the puppy on the former’s sofa, playing. He smiles to himself at the sight but quickly drops the smile when Sanji props up.

“You done?”

Zoro nods and nudges his hands into the side pockets of his sweatpants. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”

Sanji shows this strange grin which Zoro doesn’t know what to make of, and shakes his head, “I fixed us some grub,” he notifies, “you hungry?”

Zoro presses his lips together and nods, “I could eat.”

“Great,” Sanji picked the puppy again and headed towards the kitchen, assured the man was following closely by.

 

At dinner table, Sanji doesn’t bring up the bit about the hunters or how he spent the past three or four days searching for Zoro, but he does initiate the talk with an inquiry.

“So where have you been, if not in the cabin.”

Zoro slurps his soup and shrugs a shoulder slightly, “told you.”

“Running errands,” Sanji echoed, “yea, I heard you the first time.”

 Zoro picks a portion of the chopped chicken breasts and dumps it into his mouth. He nods at the puppy suddenly, “you gonna keep him?”

Sanji’s eyes skid towards the puppy munching away meat, and he plasters on another vague grin. “I’d love to.”

“What’ you gonna name him, then?”

Sanji clears his throat, “dunno,” he said, “was thinking to leave that up to you, I mean I’m keeping him anyway.”

Zoro’s eyes and Sanji’s meet and they hold the contact for a beat.

“Alright,” Zoro agreed, but then fell silent as the wheels of his brains began a ride to find a moniker.

“I remember Dracule,” Sanji started and the way Zoro flinched made him go pale. “He died for you, you know.”

“I know.” Zoro replied, crossly. He leans back on the chair and wipes his mouth with the napkin. “Thanks for the food.”

Sanji nods jerkily, bottom lip caught between two sets of teeth. He needs to learn when to speak and when to keep fucking quiet. Zoro was back to scowling again and Sanji is reeling because the man might decide to leave, again. He quickly changes the subject so Zoro won’t get even the chance to decide anything.

“How was it?”

Zoro folds the napkin and places it near his half empty plate, “surprisingly good.”

A broad smile takes over Sanji’s lips, “I know right,” he said, “better than your grilled fish.”

Something like a fond smile tugs at Zoro’s lip, but he doesn’t let it. “Maybe”

Sanji looks away and pushes his chair backward, “I’m going to take a shower now,” he said, “No name here is coming with.”

Zoro also pushes his chair rearward and lifts up, “I’ll clean the table.”

“Put everything in the dishwasher.” He told him, now laying the golden retriever on his shoulder.

 

Zoro didn’t seem willing to share his whereabouts for the past few days, and it’s a good thing Sanji didn’t try to pry it out of him. Although he asked a couple of times, he assumes that isn’t enough to drive Zoro away.

He peels his shirt off, and then moves on to the buckle of his belt.

To be honest, there’s no guarantee that Zoro is going to spend the night over. He looked like with one poke and he’d bolt out as if Hell hounds were chasing him. He didn’t look comfortable talking to Sanji about anything, except for when they talked about the food and Sanji hardly calls that an achievement. In fact, Zoro might be getting his things to leave right fucking now. He can’t figure him out, and he can’t bet on chances.

He picks the dog and gets into the tub, sitting inside it and ignoring the way the water overflows to the floor.

The mere mention of Dracule chased the color from Zoro’s face, thus his as well. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, maybe he wasn’t thinking at all. Dracule died an honorable death, more or less, and Zoro shouldn’t feel any dole about that particular side of his past. Although Dracule made mistakes, he tried to wipe the slate clean by sacrificing himself. Maybe those weren’t mistakes; cleaning after psychopathic Zoro wasn’t a mistake, it was a choice. The man did something good in the end.

Sanji splashes some water on his face.

It was stupid to bring up Dracule. Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you name the dog after the person who used to clean after your bloody messes so it’d always keep the reminder alive. How fucking brilliant.

“Ugh.”

Brilliant, just brilliant…

 

He walks out and the steam stalks after him, along with the scent of mint and fresh sea minerals. He already bid on finding the apartment empty, so when he goes into the living room and finds it empty, he chuckles. Now, that’s what you call a brilliant deduction. He puts the dog on the chair pad, turns the lights off and heads to his bedroom.

Upon entering the small room, he finds Zoro by the nightstand with a photo frame in his hand. He pauses but eventually rejoices at the fact that he was wrong about Zoro. The man wasn’t so frail, thank God. He closes the door and steps towards his bed.

“This is your father?”

Sanji rounds the bed to stand beside him. He takes the photo frame from him and eyes it. It’s a family photo of himself, his parents, his brothers and sister and Luffy (because Luffy was family). “After my return, my mother decided that we didn’t have enough family photos and forced all of us into it.”

Zoro frowns, “your return?”

Sanji’s heart slams against his chest vigorously. He opens the first drawer of the nightstand and hides the picture inside to probably hide the memories as well. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “it’s all in the past.” He switches the light of the lamp on and faces the man again. He speaks after a long pause “thought you left.”

Zoro’s dark, mesmerizing pupils start casting their spell, charming Sanji the second their eyes met. “I decided to stay.”

“Yeah?” Sanji asks, almost in a moan. “What changed your mind?”

Zoro snaked his tongue out, licking his lips. He shrugs lazily and steps closer to the man, removing the space between them.

Sanji gets all dizzy. He rests his hands on Zoro’s arms, and starts sliding them up very slowly. “I’m glad then” he whispers, his hands finally reaching Zoro’s hair. By this point, he is panting hotly, “So fucking glad.”

Zoro ducks and buries his face in Sanji’s neck, and the man throws his head to the back, moaning in pleasure. They fan on the bed, and for the first time, Zoro places himself between Sanji’s legs without ordering him to turn over.

 

“Oh, fuck!” Sanji grunts into Zoro’s ear, cutting the continuous cries and moans. “It’s slamming so deep.”

Zoro thrusts into the man beneath at his heart’s content, he already had his legs spread and folded to his chest. This is different from their other times as he can see Sanji’s expression and even allowed it when the man hugged him.

Sanji feels Zoro’s dick shoving and drilling deeper with each thrust and he is about to lose his mind. This is so hot and somewhat passionate, even the fact that they’re doing it missionary style is making him all woozy in the head. He moans like a whore fucked by two.

“More, Zoro” he begged, “I want to be fucked more by you.”

Zoro’s heart fluttered because this is also the first time Sanji calls his name during sex. He frames the crown of Sanji’s head with a hand and the other glides under the man, bringing him even closer as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into him like he’s using an Onahole. Sanji yelped, moaned and whimpered. Zoro bucks up just a little to watch as Sanji’s sapphire blue eyes narrow and his mouth parts open, a whimper tearing from his lungs as he spurts his cum over his chest.

Holy fuck! It’s the best thing Zoro’s seen in his life. He darts his hand to the throbbing but nonetheless relieved cock to milk out cum, but Sanji rests his hand on his, and he fucking mewls as he stops him.

“It’s sensitive.” He said…, a déjà-vu?

Zoro licked his upper lip and realized the way with which he’s beholding Sanji’s sexed-out expression was like a damn hungry wolf salivating over its prey, its sexy, sweat-soaked, panting and blushing prey. He wants to mess him up, squeeze his dick and see how beautifully he’ll cry.  He blows out a ragged breath and spins his hip to rub the inside of Sanji’s ass.

Sanji pouts up at him. He wordlessly returns his hands around Zoro’s neck and locks his ankles behind the man’s back. “It’s okay, Zoro” he says out of no freaking where that it takes Zoro a moment to decipher the meaning, but still fails. “Move already.”

Zoro tightens his hold around Sanji again and knocks their foreheads together.

However, they don’t kiss…

 

Zoro, naked and sweaty, sits on the bed in complete darkness. He glances over at the man sleeping away, and frowns. They had hot passionate sex. He and Sanji, his former captive, the man he used to torture and rape. He braces his elbows on his knees and drops his head in his hands, just what in the world is he doing? He so readily accepted Sanji’s invitation, and even crawled into his bed. Just how messed up is he going to be and how low is he going to bring Sanji until he’s satisfied. He’s a selfish prick and Sanji deserves better, the way he fucking smiles… This is not fair to the man.

“Zoro?”

The man snaps out of his reverie and looks over at Sanji, finding him propped up on his elbow, fair hair standing out in every direction and bare skin looking so porcelain.

“Did I wake you?” His velvety voice cuts the silence.

“Mm,” Sanji shakes his head sluggishly, “is it still snowing?”

Zoro faces the window, the only source of light, and nods.

“Merry Christmas, Zoro.” Sanji’s sleepy voice droned through a smile.

Zoro twists around to face Sanji, “Merry Christmas.”

 

This needs to stop.

 

**~~~~~~**

 

When he woke up, the side of the bed next to his was empty.

 

Today isn’t Saturday, it’s Wednesday. Sanji couldn’t wait a whole freaking week, especially after the hot night he and Zoro shared on his bed inside his apartment.

He enters the empty cabin and kicks off the boots smeared in snow, and then he puts the shopping bags on the table.

He doesn’t know Zoro’s thoughts on the passionate night they spent together, or how he feels about it. He isn’t here to find out, either. He’s here today to… just because, really. He isn’t sure. A part of him just couldn’t stop the excitement from oozing every time he remembered Saturday.

He finds the kettle inside the fireplace nested on burning embers, suggesting that Zoro was planning to come back. He sits on the bed and listens to the silence. Distant chirping and squeaks interrupt this silence from time to time, but he slowly starts to realize that this cabin and this silence is a lot like Zoro; lonely, cold and misunderstood. It’s funny how the temperature drop embodies Zoro’s icy cold attitude, and how the burning embers in the fireplace symbolize the hungry lust he saw in the man’s eyes when he was fucking him. It’s also funny how the cabin in the woods is eerie at first glance –something that takes him back to Zoro’s first appearance.

He leans back on the bed sheets and the specks of dust fly off like a swarm of butterflies disturbed by a breeze. The scent of wood and soil race to his nostrils, and the touch of sheets fondles his back. He snuggles on the bed, making soft noises at the scent that fills up his head with images of Zoro’s face inches from his. Deep set eyes that look into his with kindness and lust.

One of his hands slides under his belt, cupping the tent beneath the fabric. The other goes to his mouth and he suckles on its back.

 

Zoro’s been living a roller coaster of emotions. He tried going hunting so it’d take his mind off things, off the way Sanji chewed on his quivering lip desperate and lonely for a touch, the way he whimpered and sobbed as if Zoro was a sex God giving him intermittent orgasms, the way his eyes glinted whenever their eyes met and the way he wrapped his limbs around Zoro as though holding on so he wouldn’t drown in pleasure. It became too much at one point and he couldn’t just sit there and finish _To Build a Fire_ , so he picked his hunting gear and sauntered out.

He knows Sanji kept that habit of coming every Saturday, but he didn’t count on their last encounter causing a change in agenda. As he stands there by the cabin’s front door, he hears moans echoing off from the inside; Sanji’s moans, his hot, sexy moans.

Zoro freezes by the doorstep with a hand on the handle.

He listens in, although he knows it’s wrong, he listens in. He hears his name being called out on a prolonged moan, and no other words can describe the way with which his stomach vibrates. He’s never even dreamed of this day where Sanji will finally jerk off to him. Zoro frowns. He already decided to stop this but now he is getting second thoughts, so maybe Sanji doesn’t plan on snatching this away from him after he’s played him well. Maybe Sanji really…loves him? Zoro wants to laugh. Sanji doesn’t love him, he can’t. Zoro tortured and assaulted him, he gave him nothing but broken bones and burnt skin and raped ass. These sins, they can’t be forgotten or forgiven, not by Sanji, and not by the history that Zoro is pretty sure will repeat itself if Sanji hangs at the cabin more often.

He reels around and leaves with the spoil of the hunt dangling down one of his shoulders.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:  
> Would you like a story with Alpha Zoro and the Mugiwara as his pack -sans Sanji, basically a Werewolf AU? If you agree, just comment "Yes" or "I'm in". Anything to let me know you agree but it has to exceed 15 comments, at least. I just don't want to write something no one's gonna read.


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

 

Sanji’s irregular panting is the only sound beating the silence as he lies there, sprawled like a starfish. He sits up with a small groan and eyes the mess on his hand and his cock, and sighs. It’s a good thing Zoro isn’t here to see the state he’s in. He probably should clean up and leave and make good of the fact that Zoro has no idea he was here on a freaking Wednesday. Besides, the puppy must be going crazy at the neighbor’s; poor thing never liked the old scary lady.

He goes back home and prays Zoro doesn’t pinpoint the evidence of him barging into the place when its owner was outside.

 

On Saturday, just a day away from the New Year eve, Sanji buys presents and a cake which he got a discount on at the bakery down town and heads to the woods. He already left the three weeks old puppy at his coworker’s, the same music teacher who blushes at his sight.

 

There’s nothing more beautiful than light snowfall sprinkling on lofty-armed trees like sawdust. He feels wafts of wind sweeping through the empty tree lines like a companion in his trek. The path glitters and crunches beneath his boots. He looks up with clear-blue eyes and finds the cabin slowly coming into view, so he beams and quickens his pace.

Finally, he’s going to see Zoro.

 

“Hey,” he gushed after entering and finding Zoro standing by the window. He places the bags at the foot of the table and the cake on its top. “I know it’s a day away, but I couldn’t hold myself when I found about the discounts.”

Zoro unfolds his arms and thrusts his hands into his pockets, and then, very slowly, turns around.

Sanji smiles widely upon seeing the man’s face, his evidently cross face. “I hope you like vanilla cream.”

“Sanji,” just as the words were voiced, said man stilled and his beam dissipated. “I admit I never expected to meet you again, not after what I’d done to you. But I’ve been telling you over and over, I do not desire you the way you want me to. The fact that you come here into a place I’d always considered a sanctuary is really upsetting me. You’re threatening my inner peace.” He said, coolly, “There can never be a thing between you and me. So I’d like you to take your stuff and leave, and I don’t want you to come back.”

“Okay, random.” Sanji scoffed, humorlessly. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“From weeks of gritting my teeth and praying you’d someday just stop showing up.”

Sanji simply shrugged, “That’s not gonna happen.”

“It will.” Zoro says on a shrug of his own, “I’ve already paid my debts to you, so now I want you to leave.”

“Debts?” Sanji cocked his head and furrowed, “you think you can make up for the things you made me go through?”

“Then I guess there’s no reason for you to come back here.”

“I told you –”

“You want to make me relive the hell I made you go through, yea, I heard you the first time.” Zoro sighs wearily, “I don’t care about that, or about you.”

Sanji’s throat constricts. His arms sag beside his sides, “but… you’re starting to feel something.”

Zoro smirked coldly, “towards you? Yea, that’s called sorry.”

Sanji’s lips part and he makes a face.

“The only reason why I agreed to your nonsense was because I felt sorry for you.” He insisted, “Nothing more.”

“But last time” –Sanji gulps, in an attempt to hold off his tears–“we connected…”

Zoro barked a laugh, “are you even listening to yourself?” he scoffed, “You gave me a hole to fuck and I did. Don’t come crying to me if you were easily swayed.” He picks the cake and throws it to the door, and then the bags, making Sanji flinch. “But now I’ve grown tired of you, so why don’t you do us both a favor and get the fuck out.”

Sanji slowly lowers his head which is now drained of any thoughts; he can’t even feel his legs or the floor he’s standing on. He moves them eventually and swivels around, vacating the cabin. He feels his chest tight and his eyelids heavy with unshed tears, mourning in consolation. He snorts. It’s funny because he’s inconsolable.

He trudges on the snow, heavy steps taking him somewhere; anywhere but the cabin.

God…

So last time was just Zoro fucking a hole? Is that it? Then what was that glint in his eyes? And why were his arms so gentle? And why the hell did he hug him back!

His foot hits something and he stumbles down, gazing dazedly at the lifted root that he tripped over. He’s too worn-out to curse or kick snow to blow off steam. He’s too tired to get back up on his feet. He frames his face and cries into his hands, hot tears slithering between his palm lines.

Zoro wasn’t wrong. Sanji should have been stronger than that, shouldn’t have let himself get easily swayed. After all, the only thing that can be between them is the reminder of a past so ugly. He doesn’t know why he expected more, and he doesn’t know why it hurts to be chased off despite the fact that he was brought here by sheer happiness and excitement. Zoro was right. Sanji gave him a hole, and the man used it. He was used yet again, and he was the one to initiate it which means Zoro will most likely not feel remorse.

He hears the bushes at a side rustling, and it delays his feel-sorry-for-my-self weeping play. He sits upright and he feels the way the cold wind dries his tears.

“Who’s there?”

A long blood-smeared snout edged by two long and sharp fangs comes out of the bushes, and Sanji’s sadness gets momentarily replaced by fear because that’s got to be one of the wild boars those hunters from the other time were hunting. Obviously, they missed. In a moment so unpredictable, the boar sprints towards him with his mouth open, revealing the sharp set of fangs.

Sanji regains sensation in his legs and levers up, ready to run. He finds another angry-looking boar in his path that, also, doesn’t wait for the startup cue and launches at him. Sanji topples to the back and brings his arms up in front of him, and all his sees through the chaos consisting of fangs and snow dust and fur is a pairs of unforgiving eyes, and all he hears is the squeal of the boars. He flails his legs and elbows one of them, but its fang manages to sink in his arm and he whimpers. He tries to lift up and the momentum gives the other boar a chance to pierce his fang in Sanji’s collar until blood spurts on the white snow, tainting it.

He almost lets them eat him.

However, thinking back on the days of hell he survived and of his family believing in him enough to let him come here unescorted gifts him with more strength and, in a wonderful moment, he manages to push the boars off him and dart forward. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the woods and facing the main road. He wobbled to his knees when the blood loss finally caught up to him. Then radiant headlights speed towards him and that’s the last thing he sees before fainting to the tarred ground.

 

 

 

Sanji rises to consciousness with a soft groan, and aside from the intermittent beeps and the muffled voices, he feels a dull and piercing pain in his neck and upper arm, preventing any deep thoughts. He slowly opens his eyes and grunts at the assaulting beams overhead. He feels a faint weight on his left arm and the side of his neck from where the pain is radiating. The beeping returns and he looks away from the ceiling, letting his head loll to the side. He opens his bleary eyes properly and sees a metal pole hooked horizontally on his bed. He hears another muffled voice as if coming from underwater and turns to it, finding his father hovering atop him with worry marring his face.

He furrows up at his father who is mouthing something which he can’t hear. He groans in protest and forces his eyes close.

“Hurts…” the voice said, “Call the nurse…”

“Wha…?” Sanji breathes out lazily, he faces away and tries to sit up, but agonizing pain flares up in his left side and he cries out. His bearings come intact and he draws his legs to his chest and curls up on his side, nursing his injured arm.

“Son,” his father’s voice returns, cool and confident. “Try not to move too much. I already called the nurses.”

Sanji gasps because his brief moment of semi-lucidity is now being overtaken by tremors of pain. He shuts his eyes again, tears roll down as though aiming to win a race. “Hurts…”

The beeping grows and the world of beaming fluorescent lights swirls and darkens at the edges.

“I know” his father said, now combing his greasy, sweat-filled hair with his callous fingers. “They’re gonna be here soon.” He soothes and, miserly, watches how his son caves to oblivion.

 

He was in his office singing papers and hoping the rest of the day would stay the same, no urgent calls of duty, but alas, he was wrong. His personal phone started ringing and he frowned at the 3-digit number because that’s usually a sign of something bad. He connected the call and didn’t need to hear the rest when the woman on the other end of the line had brought up hospital, your son and immediately.

He took sick leave and rushed out, to Shimotsuki, and was there in less than an hour which, according to him, is record time. Now that he thinks of it, he must have broken too many of traffic laws that the KNPA would bury itself underground if this ever gets out. But the moment that nurse lady blurted out his son’s name and that he was hurt, logic became a thing of debate. He was then taken into a room soon after they had his son out of ICU and settled in room 34. He can’t deny the good mannerism with which he was manhandled, but he guesses his uniform is to thank for that.

He had been sitting on a chair by Sanji’s bedside, and noticed how his son started to stir and groan. He knows his son and he knew he was going to start moving a lot soon. Indeed, moments and the nurses had to be rushed in. They came in and gave his son a sedative and some morphine to help him rest, and the doctor went on about the surgery again and its effects and possible rehabilitation, which, really? He didn’t have the spirit to hear out so he dismissed the doctor until his son was awake. The doctor, thankfully, was very understanding and left after tapping his shoulder in consolation.

Now, as he sits there eyeing his son’s battered body, he starts to ponder the story he was told: It seems that Sanji got attacked inside the woods by a couple of boars, and then almost hit by a car on the edge road separating the woods and the town, which leaves him with a plethora of questions. Why was his son inside the woods? What was he doing outside school, considering the fact that the attack happened between six and seven, and working hours end at ten?

He sighs and scrubs his face. It seems that he’s grown a few gray hairs over this. The only way he can get answers is for Sanji to wake up and start talking again.

 

The morning is always cold these days, sometimes even nippy that it becomes intolerable. Zoro has become used to it, though, and he doesn’t find it as irritating as he used to when he first occupied the cabin.

He washes his face with the water he left boiling inside the fireplace, and finally faces the broken mirror. The endless eyes looking back at him make him nauseous so he looks away, and finally vacates the confined space. Outside, he observes the mess he made and he knows he was out of line with that, but Sanji wouldn’t have believed his act otherwise. He goes to clean off the cream so it wouldn’t attract ants, and accidentally finds a folded paper that must have fallen from one of the bags Sanji brought with him. He is crouched. He opens the piece of paper and reads it silently.

[I want to overcome our past together, and I believe that what we’re starting to have is capable of making the impossible possible. Happy New Year, Zoro.]

He rakes his fingers through his hair and breathes out a heavy sigh. Thinking back on how dejected and broken Sanji had looked, saying those things might have not been the best thing to do. He went through so much trouble and the genuine look of sorrow on Sanji makes him regret the whole thing all the way to his bones. He crunches the paper and hugs it to his face. Gosh, what has he done? Sanji didn’t deserve that, and he didn’t deserve to be chased out like some fucking beggar.

On the other hand, this is for the best.

 

He finished repairing a couple of antique chairs yesterday and he needs to take them out of the rented garage and return them today so he can get his wage. He has things he needs to buy: the jaws of his bear trap have started to dull, so he needs to renew it. The hook keeper of his finishing rod broke a couple of days ago. He needs new socks as well.

He wears his coat and treks the direction he lead Sanji through the other time. With his hands in his side pockets, Zoro finds it easy to dawdle and just behold the white coat covering the trees and the road. And as he ventures further into the woods, this nagging buzzing prompts him. He knows wild boars tend to become territorial during mating season, so the idea of some poor animal disemboweled by a raging sounder of hogs preparing to complete for breeding rights is not that far-fetched.  Indeed, just a few feet away, he finds puddles of blood huddled in one area: there obviously has been some sort of a struggle. He waves before his face to fend off the flies and hurriedly scurries away.

 

He sells the first chair and receives money for it without a word exchanged, other than the gushing compliments the old man makes about the beautiful carvings. Then he goes to sell the second and this old lady is quite chatty in her dealings, and he bears with it for the money.

“I’d have waited more, sweetheart.” She started, “it’s dangerous now in those woods, a guy got mauled last night by a few hogs.”

That piqued his curiosity and he found himself glaring details from her.

“Like I said,” she said on a hum as she examined the repaired chair, “He was whisked to hospital last night. Rumors have it that the young man was being chased, and I also heard he got mauled pretty badly by wild pigs. I keep telling them those boars will eventually kill someone, they’re becoming a damn epidemic.”

Zoro doesn’t know any men who are crazy enough to be in those woods, especially with the threat of rampaging hogs still fresh, but he does know Sanji. He also knows that he chased the man outside around six or seven… The pieces fall together and Zoro pales. The nausea hits him again and he doubles over, expelling the contents of his stomach. He ignores the way the old lady coos over him, he doesn’t trust people’s worry anymore, and he waves it off as bad ingestion. He eventually takes his money and clears her way.

 

So Sanji was rushed to the hospital last night?

He stops in his tracks and glowers at the dirty road.

Does this mean the blood he saw earlier in the road was Sanji’s? Was he really attacked by boars? When he was warm inside the cabin, reading a fucking book, was Sanji being mauled to death?

His legs commence moving again, leading him to the only ER in town. He manages to charm info out of a petite nurse who guides him to room 34 in a different ward in which the only patient named Sanji is. He nods to her when she tells him to take his time since visiting hours weren’t over until late in the afternoon. He walks in after peering inside and finding it clear of anyone other than the man sleeping on the bed.

Sanji’s head is tilted towards the other side, and there are a few scratches and cuts on his hands and face. His left arm is in a black sling and the entire left side of his collar is swathed in gauze. He looks pale that Zoro can actually see the blue veins underneath his skin. Dark circles surround his eyes that it literally looks like bruising.

It was really Sanji the victim of the animal attack.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn't planning on updating this anytime soon but guess what, the mood struck.  
> Also, a lot of you people are waiting for this to get updated, and now that it has, please show it some love? Kudos and comments are welcome to spread this around for other Zosan worshipers.  
> Check this story out if you're up for smutty werewolfic adventures featuring Alpha!Zoro: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270691/chapters/32915700 (this is what I'm dedicating most of my time to).
> 
> Hope you enjoy...fuck, I know for certain you'll enjoy ;D

 

 

“Happy new year, buddy!” Luffy’s voice blares off the laptop Sanji's father placed on the over-bed table, “wish you a quick recovery first” –Sanji smiles fondly at that– “and to be happy and successful in all phases of life.”

“Thanks, bro.” He tells him in his moderate voice, “I wish you the same, and even more.”

“They’re letting me stay this late because it’s a special night but same rules still apply to everyone,” the father tells his son’s friend, “so I’m gonna go offline, we’ll talk more when I get there.”

“Okay,” Luffy mumbled, “sorry Sanji I can’t be there, my boss is a bit bloody-headed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled again despite the bruises and cuts scattered on his face. “We’ll talk again later on phone.”

He watches how his father closes the laptop and lifts his coat off the backrest of his chair.

“I should go now,” he opines to his son, “I’ll see if they can discharge you soon.”

Sanji nods.

His father’s eyes linger on his before they narrow, “you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Sanji deciphers the hint and rolls his eyes, “dad, I told you,” he whines, “I was jogging, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

His father presses his lips together; that sounded a lot like a smarmy, unctuous reply, but he goes along with it and nods. He pecks on his son’s forehead and finally leaves after turning the light off.

With his father finally gone from the room, Sanji’s head falls back on the pillow and he lets out a somnolent sigh. It’s exhausting when you have to tell a lie after a lie while trying to keep a straight face. He knows he shouldn’t have, especially not to his father, but it’s not like he can open with a ‘hey, you can’t guess who I met in the woods after four years; it’s the same guy who tortured and raped me for months’, who, also, kicked him out of the cabin on the premise to never show his mug again.

Sanji falls silent and still. The lines on his face quirk and soon he’s scowling into the darkened room. He can sit up now without feeling the need to hurl his lungs out, so with his healthy hand, he peels off the quilt. He swings his legs outside the bed and gives himself a moment as the room started swirling in his vision, and then he shambles to the bathroom, wincing every time he moves wrong and agitates his wounds.

It seems that the boars’ tusks left him with quite the damage, almost popped open his jugular but he was lucky they missed. It left his skin open though across his collar and neck, and the area around his elbow was crazed open as well. It looked ugly. He was told that the doctor managed to sew him up and that the surgery was a success.

He checks himself in the mirror and scowls again: there are raw bruises under his eyes, cuts and scratches over his face and his knuckles. His left arm is in a sling, dangling down his chest. There’s gauze wrapped around his chest and the side of his neck. He is, all in all, a huge fucking mess. He is glad, though, because besides the gashes on his arm and neck, he seems to have escaped fairly lightly. It’d have been worse, way worse.

He returns to his bed after he’s relieved himself, and unwanted thoughts start to swarm up in his head, reminding him of what had gone down a couple of nights ago before he was rushed to the ER.

He is going to think hard about this, and then he’ll decide what the best course of action should be.

 

 

“You sure you don’t want me to call someone?”

Sanji shakes his head for the second time today as his father kept prepositioning he calls a caretaker or a nurse come and help out since his arm is, well, out of commission, but Sanji keeps declining. He jerks his hand from his grey jacket and nears the car his father is now stepping away from to hug his son.

“I’ll be fine, dad.” He assures the man.

“What about that music teacher who came to see ya a couple ‘times?” There’s a playful smile on his lips which Sanji finds utterly outraging.

He rolls his eyes and can’t help but chuckle, “for the second time, dad, she’s just a coworker.” He whined, “And she’s already keeping my dog with her, that’s plenty of help.”

“Alright, son.” He acquiesces on an assigned and tired nod.

“Tell Lu not to worry too much.”

His father wants nothing but to curl his face into an accusatory frown and force his say, but he knows Sanji hasn’t been having a lot of any of his own in what happened, so he decides to give him the option to decline if he wanted. He doesn’t know if his best buddy –whom he knows is as overprotective as he is– would make the same concession, though. Well, he’ll have to suck it up. Sanji is a grown man.

“Take care of yourself, son.”  He says and finally yanks the door of the driver’s side open to get in.

Sanji keeps the amiable smile plastered on as he watches his father get into the vehicle and turn the ignition on. His father salutes him and then brings the car into motion as it slides away, rear lights flickering. Sanji feels the drop in temperature as the faint snow keeps falling, so he returns his hand back into the pocket of his insulated jacket and reels around, ready to walk back into the building.

“Sanji…”

Said man halts and whips around, finding Zoro in one of the jackets he had bought for him before he was kicked out, top of his hair and shoulders covered in snow. He sends the man a perplexed scowl and changes the position of his head so that now is half tilting.

Zoro steps towards him in deliberately long and confident strides, he grinds to a stop when they’re a few inches apart. He takes in all of Sanji: His arm that is supposed to be hanging down his chest but now tucked under the jacket, the recovering bruises blighting his pale skin with purplish shades, and small cuts scattered under his cheek and the corner of his lovely lips.

“What,” Sanji snorts, but there’s no humor in his tone. “Here to finish the job?”

Zoro hardens his glare, but remains silent and his silence translates as ‘apparently, I don’t have to’ since he’s beholding Sanji’s injuries with a pair of searching eyes.

Sanji swallows his irritation, or what’s left of it because it seem it has all dissipated the moment he heard the man’s voice. He deflates in on himself and sighs, “Whatever, dude,” he said, “what’ you want?”

“To talk.” Zoro deadpans.

Oh great. So now he wants to talk? Is there a point here being delivered that Sanji can’t see or what?

“About?” He demands.

“You gonna invite me in or what?” He rumbles in his deep voice.

How arrogant.

Sanji faces away for a second, regarding the fog-enveloped town and then switches to look at the man, now ushering with his head for him to follow.

It really looks like the roles have been reversed.

 

For the second time in the same month, Zoro finds himself seated in Sanji’s living room and surrounded by bouquets of flowers and colorful ‘get better soon’ balloons. There’s no sight of the puppy and Zoro wonders what came of the little dog, it’d actually sadden him if it turns out Sanji gave him up for adoption or something. He schools himself with admonishments to at least give the man the benefit of the doubt because he still recalls how persistent and almost resolute Sanji was about keeping the dog.

The said man had volunteered to make some tea despite his injury, and had refused any offers of assistance. Zoro told him he didn’t want anything, just a glass of water, to which Sanji jeered at and hence the tea preparation.

A few minutes later, Sanji comes with a tray and two cups from which teabags are hanging. He puts everything on the coffee table between them and sits on the sofa across Zoro. The latter lifts his cup and starts dipping the tea bag into the boiled water.

He remembers his trip to Seorak Mountain with his departed father eleven years ago, what was really beautiful about the climb, aside from the scenery and the delight which follows the achievement of finally reaching the peak, is the silence he could hear during the hike. This silence in the room right now reminds him of that time.

“How’s the arm?” He asks after placing the cup back on the table.

Sanji has removed his jacket at the door very carefully but apparently Zoro busted him wince a couple of times. Adding to that, Zoro didn’t ask what happened, which tells him he either knows or he simply doesn’t care. However, Zoro asking if the arm is fine sparks the wheel of hope in him again. So maybe he does care a little, and Zoro also must know about the boar attack since his father made sure to leave strict orders around for the boars to be put down, and the fact that he’s receiving get-well items from everyone he knows in this town. He shrugs his uninjured shoulder, “fine,” he said, “just a few scratches,” huge fucking understatement, “should be fine in a few days.”

Zoro rests his elbows on his thighs and twines his finger. He nods and still remains silent, wow, wasn’t he the one who said he wanted to talk? Why the heck is he making Sanji feel uncomfortable for it?

Sanji is obviously a lot weaker than he’s letting on, and with the busted arm and the words of ridicule still fresh in memory, Zoro isn’t really sure anymore that coming here for the confession of his life was the wisest thing to do.

“Zoro, look” the small, almost weak voice surprises him and he finds himself looking up at the man on command. “I’ve been giving this some thought, and I want you to hear me out.” Serious thought, actually, and he lost sleep a couple of nights because of this so he isn’t going to let the chance slip, it’s now or never. “Back at the hospital, I finally had time to think and I realized I’ve been wrong.” He starts, his healthy hand fiddling with the bandage on his wounded arm. The rueful expression tenderizes and his brows tremble, “I should’ve listened to you when we met again after four years and you told me to go back. I should have turned around and left.” His voice falls even fainter, “I was the one who went back against your warning, that’s why,” he lets his hand fall to his lap. This is it. He’s going to get it off his chest. “That’s why none of this is your fault.”

Zoro wants to cut the man off, tell him to stop because this isn’t what he’s been planning to make the man admit, isn’t the kind of reaction he wished to elicit from him, but the wave of genuine distress emanating from the golden-haired still takes him by surprise.

“Even what happened four years ago,” Sanji feels the lids of his eyes burn as tears start to well up, “that wasn’t your fault, Zoro.”

The man’s jaw slacks.

“You were a victim, too.” He insists, “You were being manipulated and we were ambushed, Hancock is to blame for all of this.”

Then they fall –his tears…

Zoro watches how Sanji’s lips tremble as more tears stream down his battered face.

“I’m no different from her,” he suddenly sobs, “Although you isolated yourself, I kept going back, making you relive the nightmares and the things you wished to forget.” He snivels with more tears spilling from his beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. “I never realized that by making you sleep with me, you were hurting.” He lowers his head to cry more, plentiful tears landing on his lap. “I’ve been hurting you this whole time.”

Zoro’s mind is completely blank and his sense of unease grows. He’s been planning to get down on his hands and knees and bawl his sorry. Heck, he’s been ready to receive rejection no matter how it comes, but the things he’s been preparing to say ever since he decided to confess to Sanji are all gone now. The sight of Sanji blaming himself and crying for his sake and saying the most unassuming things… just how good-hearted is he going to continue to be? Zoro can’t fall any deeper, God damn.

Sanji’s sniffs and sobs finally start to ebb bit by bit. He takes in a deep shaky breath and looks up, now letting out a huge sigh. “That’s why, um, I know it’s not gonna be easy but I’ve decided to not go back to the cabin.”

Zoro’s face draws into a deep frown again, his stomach somersaulting inside at the news.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” Sanji swipes at his nose with the back of his sleeve and sniffles. “It’s just… it’s hard, you know, seeing you and Luffy move on while I’m the only one still stuck in the past.” He smiles sadly like he’s dismissing everything that has happened till now and, that in its own, wipes half of his life. “But it’s fine, I’ll learn how to move on and staying in this town will help.” He says, and adds,“Besides, I like it here.”

Zoro slowly lowers his head, thinking that’s the end of Sanji’s tirade, it isn’t.

“These cuts can’t possibly hurt like how your heart is hurting,” tears are announcing another war again that Sanji needs to overcome, and remembering the times he caused the man unnecessary heartache makes him lose the battle. “I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have imposed, shouldn’t have invaded your privacy and I apologize for that.”

Zoro waits, but Sanji’s sobs don’t come to an end.

“Sanji,” he starts with a tone of final resolution. “Every time we had sex, you’d nibble at the back of your hand.” He says, “You ever noticed?”

Sanji scowls in bare confusion.

Zoro lifts up, all decided, and sits besides Sanji. He faces the man and switches to look from his eyes to his lips, “wanna kiss?”

“I did not say all that to get your pity.” Sanji said, defiantly.

Zoro chews on his bottom lip, which trembles nonetheless. He looks fleetingly down, allowing his tears to break free –something he hasn’t done in years. “Forgive me, Sanji.”

Sanji finally deciphers the meaning. The kiss offer was probably a goodbye present; well, he did say he wasn’t planning on returning to the cabin again. He never thought it out, but this certainly hurts. He doesn’t want to part from this man, it’s utterly illogic. His shoulders rock as he cries again, torrents of tears showing no sign of stopping.

Zoro rests their foreheads together and cries, too.

Sanji nods because, despite the cruelty of it, he’ll grow used to his decision some day, and he smiles benignly because, unlike their first separation, he is glad he and Zoro will part ways without grudges. “Okay, okay.” He breathes out, “Life is too big, Zoro, and we’re too small. Let’s not waste what we’ve left to live on the past.”

Zoro licks his lips and remains still, his eyes now slowly parting open to hold contact with Sanji’s.

“It’s ironic, silly and even stupid.” Sanji words through an innocent beam that is filled with nothing but compassion and something ethereal which the other man can’t really define. “But it seems I’m lovelorn.”

Zoro feels as though something just unleashed a swarm of butterflies inside his stomach, he can’t even hear the tick-tock of the plain wall clock inside Sanji’s living room anymore. His pupils roam in Sanji’s, staring into the burst of feelings making the man’s eyes glint like the Sirius before dusk.

“I love you, Zoro.” With every inch of his own battered soul…

Just one more time and Zoro will develop fucking asthma because his breath is taken away. The way Sanji’s silvery voice utters the words he’s never imagined someone would tell him at his face, much less Sanji himself –the man he’s been planning to confess to. He feels his brows tremble and meet across his forehead, and for a moment, he closes his eyes before he loses himself in Sanji’s eyes.

Like some emotionally-constipated asshole, he’s always evaded having to expound on unnecessary details and parts of himself, and it causes him a slight twinge of irritation when he has to succumb to heart-to-hearts and just deal with all the fucking _words_. He forces himself to speak though because he owes Sanji that much.

“For four fucking years… I’ve been trying to get you out of my head.”

Sanji tries to make out Zoro’s face through his blurred vision, but all he sees is the man’s outline. The expressed words make him dizzy, and he holds off all motions because Zoro better not be joking.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wished you were dead, because that way I wouldn’t be able to hurt you if we ever met again.” He said, now pressing his lips to hold off his own tears. “I’m scared, Sanji. Every time I try to do something good, it just backfires.”

Sanji hiccups but remains attentive to the words he never, ever, imagined he’d hear, especially not from Zoro.

“I’ve done horrible things to people; hypnosis or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve ended lives, your friends’ included.” He sighs shakily, like a fucking kid tired of wailing. “But for some reason, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I tried for years, trust me; you’re just always there.”

Sanji brings his hand to Zoro’s cheek and cups it, and he feels the way Zoro immediately relaxes at the contact, “I won’t forgive you if you’re saying this because you’re feeling sorry.”

Zoro’s eyes snap open, “Fuck no.” He seethes, “I don’t care about nightmares or guilt anymore.” He says and scoots a little closer, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Sanji. I’ll go crazy if you disappear again.”

“That should be my line, bastard.” Sanji chuckles charmingly.

Zoro permits the smile that tugs next at his lips, and then frowns again. “Us being together is going to bring stuff up, stuff we’re still trying so hard to forget about.” He said, “It might become unbearable, and sad and lonely –”

But Sanji is already shaking his head, “Don’t care,” he said, now framing the side of Zoro’s neck, “not after I got you to say the magic words.”

“That was you.”

“You’re the one who’ll go crazy if I disappear,” Sanji teases, now resting their foreheads together. “By the way, what was that about my habit during sex?”

Against himself, Zoro smiles like a man drunk in love. “Wanna try kissing?”

Sanji’s playful smile falls, and is suddenly overtaken by a mad rush and pure arousal. He leans in, keeping his forehead pressed against Zoro’s, and says quietly, “yea, I do.”

“Yea?” Zoro asks, breathlessly. He still shifts a little to a more comfortable position. “How badly?”

Sanji feels Zoro’s breath on his lips that almost sets his moan free. “So fucking badly.”

In a moment so slow, Zoro leans forward that final inch and presses his mouth against Sanji’s –it’s electrifying. He feels the way Sanji melts. The way Sanji’s hand is threading through his hair is fucking amazing. He seizes the chance to apply everything he’s learned in his fantasies on Sanji, pressing and sucking and biting, and Sanji is soon unable to stifle the lewd moans.

He pulls away just a tiny bit, to see if Sanji wants this to go on, and the crease across the man’s forehead and the swollen lips and the drugged look in his eyes makes Zoro rejoice and smirk. So he connects their lips again. Sanji devours his mouth like it’d cause him physical pain if they pull away and Zoro agrees wholeheartedly. He rests a hand on Sanji’s knee, parting it from its twin, the other goes to his cheek, just palming the flushed skin.

“Zoro…” Sanji moans with bated breath.

Zoro mumbles a fervent ‘your tongue’ and it’s all Sanji needs to part his lips, Zoro plunges his tongue inside the man’s mouth and flaps it on Sanji’s, enjoying the soft noises he makes. He moves that hand he has on Sanji’s cheek to the side of his bandaged neck, and accidently presses on the wound that Sanji can’t help but let out a prolonged whimper. Zoro’s cock throbs at the sound and he lifts up a little to grind against Sanji’s bulge, pushing his leg far apart.

Sanji’s head becomes faint and he fans back on the headrest of the couch they’re sitting on, and he appreciates the break Zoro gives his lungs after pulling from the kiss, making his chest heave as he pants shallowly. His slightly opened eyes allow more tears free. Zoro licks his upper lip, swallowing his and Sanji’s drool. He allows him only a moment’s leeway before he eats up his lips greedily again, grinding against the man’s cock protected by the fabric of his jeans.

“Umm...” Sanji mewls into the kiss, silently begging for some relief as he slides his hand to the button of his jeans, fiddling with it fanatically.

Zoro smacks his hand away so he can roughly snake his hand down and unbutton it himself, but keeps his mouth on Sanji’s. He unzips the chain and unfurls the waistband of Sanji’s boxers, and his cock springs free, covered in precum that has already left darkened spots on the crotch area of his jeans. Sanji also works Zoro’s jeans open and takes out the angry-looking cock in his hand, sighing into the kiss at the sensation. Zoro interrupts the kiss to press their foreheads against each other again and looks down through the little space between their chests, blowing out hot breath on Sanji’s lips.

Sanji looks up at the man topping him with bleary, watery eyes and the way the man grunts hotly makes his cock spill more precum. Their wet breaths mix and their sighs are then overtaken by the slippery sound their cocks make at the first touch.

“Zoro…” Sanji keens, urgently.

Apparently, Zoro gets it so he rubs their cocks together.

They both start making audible noises, Zoro grunts and Sanji moans sweetly. He clings to the man with his healthy hand, desperate and shaking and Zoro can’t find it in him at the moment to murmur soft assurances because he’s rooting for another sound of pain. He’s weird in the head and he knows that without anyone having to voice it out for him, but he hopes Sanji won’t deny him this. To attest that, he wraps a hand on Sanji’s neck and squeezes a little, the man chokes at that, gradually freaking out for a second so he glares up at him with something akin to shock. Zoro stops, attempting to effectively pull his hand away but Sanji is soon aborting the action.

“It’s okay.” He figured what Zoro was doing, and although it freaks him out a little bit, he still marvels at the fact that he has no qualms with getting choked by Zoro, God, only Zoro. “Fuck…. I want it”

Zoro delights inwardly and squeezes his clasp on the already injured neck, enjoying the choked and pained noises Sanji is making, the moans as well because Zoro hasn’t forgotten to rub their cocks together. The slick and wet sounds turn Sanji on more than anything else.

Something warm seeps into Zoro’s hand and he looks down, from the ecstasy and the absolute rapture, at the blood soaking the gauze. He eyes Sanji’s face overtaken by utter bliss and decides not to stop. He is fucking sexy like this: covered in precum and blood and sweat… Zoro will pinch himself later to make sure this isn’t just another fantasy, but for now he’ll swallow the sight in and relish every angle of it.

Not long and they’re both coming, and while Zoro reigns in the stifled moan, Sanji all but whimpers wantonly.

He sits up properly and unclasps his hand from Sanji’s neck, and falls in awe at the sight of crimson staining his palm. His eyes flit to Sanji’s neck and the mess he created. Said man props his head up, bleary eyes falling on his.

He grunts at first, “There’s that look on your face again”

Zoro nibbles at his bottom lip and lowers his head, “I should’ve had more self-restraint.”

“You’re a real idiot, anyone told you that before?” Sanji wonders.

“You look more the type.” He counters, “answer is no.”

Sanji half smirkes, “listen” he started, now sitting up as well while cupping the side of his neck. “If I didn’t want it I’d have punched your guts.”

“I can’t promise it’s gonna stop.” Zoro warns with a faint voice.

Sanji looks apologetic, “how silly” he said, “who said anything about me wanting it to stop.”

Zoro’s lips part open, “you really mean it?”

Sanji presses his lips together cutely and shrugs, “guess we’re both weird in the head.”

Zoro scoffs and looks down for a moment, “you’re the real idiot.”

Sanji kicks him slightly, “and in need of your surgical skills, doc.” He drawls, “You reopened my stitches, you bastard.”

For the first time, Zoro doesn’t really feel insulted.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIAL thanks to Kakashis_library, sealthedeal, and Azoog, and all of you amazing people for your support!

 

 

Zoro has just finished taping the bandage across Sanji’s shoulder and neck when someone knocks on the latter’s door. They both prompt up and stare at each other before Sanji slouches with a brazen roll of his blue eyes.

“It must be Violet, the music teacher at the school I work at.” He informs, now slowly struggling to rise up. He feels secretly grateful when Zoro reaches over and winds his arm around his back to help him up. “I kept the dog at hers, now she’s probably here to give him back.”

It’s a good thing Zoro had the good grace in him to clean him before he commenced the stitching up, otherwise he’d have had to explain things the sweet music teacher never thought possible.

“Man, I’m not ready for this.” He starts a litany of mumbles to himself and his eyes dart to the doorway, like something might crawl out of it and eat him.

Zoro falls silent as he takes in the other man’s change in demeanor. He’s not as in tune so it takes him a moment, but he manages to put the pieces together as to what is exactly getting Sanji so worked up.

“’She your girlfriend?”

Sanji twirls his way with a look of distinct shock, “What. No.” He denies, almost too quickly, “I mean, she did confess a couple’ days ago, but I still haven’t given her my answer.”

“Want me to head her off?”

“No, don’t.” He lifts his good arm to ward off the offer –the very tempting offer. Last thing he needs is dealing with troublesome feelings, and although he appreciates her and her lovely feelings, he thinks it’s troublesome if it isn’t his mess to clean up. He isn’t saying she’s the problem, obviously he’s the one with a problem here, but she’s in the wrong place and the wrong time. “She might want to come in, though, so, brace yourself.”

Zoro arches his bows slightly in a manner that suggested he wasn’t looking forward to it. He also watches how Sanji returns the sling around his back and leads himself to the main direction of the front door.

 

Sanji peers through the peephole and finds the brunette dressed in a floral coat and holding the puppy to her chest. He cringes. He absolutely has no idea how he can send her back without sounding like an asshole or downright condescending. He opens the door and she meets his grimace with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets, faintly.

“Hey,” she greets back, now showing him the squirming puppy. “Gosh, he’s so excited to see you.”

Sanji takes him from her and hoists him up over his good shoulder, and the puppy starts licking up his face and making small, husky barks.

“He was getting restless so I decided to bring him back to you,” she informs, “How’re you feeling, by the way?”

Sanji nods tiredly so she can pick up on the fatigue making him stand hunched, she probably does because, next thing, she’s frowning with worry.

“You sure?” she inquires, “Not to be rude but you really don’t look good.”

He doesn’t feel good either, to be honest. During the time Zoro was stitching up the gash on his neck, he took antibiotics and those kick in really fast, and render him dizzy and nauseous. And not to mention the blood he’s lost after the fucker Zoro reopened his stitches. He picks the puppy from his middle and gently flings him to the floor before he could topple and empty his stomach on his fur, and he groans when the floor and the door spin in his vision.

The lady’s hands are soon rushing to keep him up, but another pair of novel hands beat hers to Sanji’s middle, and the man is soon lifted up by Zoro. She boggles at him because, obviously, he’s just ruined her chance to be helpful, and so she frowns.

“Who are you?”

He pays her no mind and pinches Sanji’s chin up so their eyes can meet, and the glazed pupils tell him that if he draws the support away, Sanji will not even care about sleeping beside the front door, on the floor. He hears the music teacher babble on about something and it’s fucking annoying, and without meaning to, he whips his face to her direction with a scathing glare that causes her to recoil. Go for polite, he tells himself, even though all he wants to do is cut her jugular for plotting to weave her cobs on what’s his –it’s pure, unadulterated jealousy. “Thanks for bringing Yuki. You need anything?”

She cautiously shakes her head, keeping the look in her eyes wide and wary. Something about the strange man makes the hairs in her nape stand, and it’s deterring.

“Alright, then” he tells her, now getting a hold of the door handle with his other hand, “Goodbye.” He slams the door shut and doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it. He only wakes up from his reverie when Sanji goes limp in his arms.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

“Mm…” Sanji moans into Zoro’s mouth. He’s spread naked on Zoro’s bed, there’s still gauze wrapped around his neck and around his left upper arm. He squirms, rolling his hips and causing the semen Zoro’s cock spurted inside him to spill out.

Zoro presses his mouth harder against Sanji’ full, plush lips, causing the man another shudder. When he pulls away, still propped on his elbow and looking down at the dazed man, he smirks. “You really like kissing.”

Sanji shakes himself out of his daze and registers the blush on his cheek, “what of it.”

Zoro shrugs a shoulder, “just saying”

Sanji’s glinting eyes take in all of the other man’s face, bare hunger and love on his own. He stares at his cherry red lips as though they’d weave a spell to enchant him, and he guesses the deep kisses are the enchantment.

Zoro’s eyes flick from Sanji’ to his up-curled, plump lips. The cuts have almost healed and the formerly-pronounced bruising is just a shade of fading colors now, they’re only visible in the waning or sunlight. Sanji is slowly regaining color in his face again which is a relief. His eyes always glint and Zoro slowly feels like he’s being hypnotized… something close to fury flares up in his dark stare and he glowers, and it immediately scares Sanji.

“What?”

Shit, will he ever get over the past and over the fact that he was hypnotized –he wants the word to hold only positive connotations from now on.

Sanji knows how good the other man is at dissembling, more than he is, but the fact that he’s just outright shown his… whatever the heck that was that doesn’t tally with his own, it’s just unsettling. So he has no idea what he is thinking. And how much he’s hiding is really beyond him.

“Zoro,” Sanji palms his cheek, so being confrontational it is. “What’s wrong?”

Zoro shakes his head and leans down, hiding his face between Sanji’ shoulder and cheek. It makes the latter chuckle lovingly, permissible peace curving his lips; and he allows the embrace nonetheless, hugging the man with his bandaged arm.

The buzzing of a phone brings the moment to a stop, and Zoro pulls away to sleep on his own pillow after he tucks it against the headboard while Sanji forages through the covers for the annoying phone. He finally finds it and his eyes widen at the caller’s ID on the screen.

“Shit,” he grits out, “it’s Luffy.”

Zoro supports the back of his head on his hand and looks up at the other’s horror-stricken face. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

Sanji’ tongue snakes out ardently and he pins Zoro with a vague look before finally connecting the call, “Lu, hey, buddy.” He listens in, and speaks again after rolling his eyes. “Okay, just wait for me. I’ll be there in a few.” He disconnects the call and lets out an unendurable sigh. “He’s unbelievable, dropping by without a prior notice.”

Zoro furrows his thick brows but doesn’t comment.

Sanji returns his gaze on Zoro’s, hoping to gauge a reaction but alas, Zoro wasn’t changing his poker face. He flings the phone somewhere on the bed and slides out from the warm cover with consummate elegance, naked ass swinging in the air with cum dripping down his inner thighs, and he straddles Zoro –knees on either side of his hips, an arm braced by his shoulder and the other hugged to his chest since he can’t lean on it yet. He takes his tongue a little out from the corner of his lips and bites on it, grinning mischievously.

Zoro’s smirk is ferial at the liberal and open sprinkling of playful naughtiness, and enjoys the drama interlude as Sanji sways his ass, making sure their cocks rub.

“Waiting more won’t kill him” he tells his man, “you think you can make me cum in twenty?”

“I can make you cum in far less.” Zoro drones sexily, “your stamina is a joke.”

“Hey, now.” He said, “New sexual conquests excite me.” He intones in reproach, now licking along Zoro’s bulky neck and making him sigh softly. “Just the thought of your cock inside my ass makes me so fucking wet.”

Zoro feels a shudder run through him soon as the whispered words fall on his ear, and he immediately immobilizes Sanji by the hip with a hand and the other goes to the puffy entrance slicked by cum. “When did you become such a massive pussy?”

“How about you shut your trap and fuck that pussy?”

Zoro ignores the ridiculous pun and pushes three fingers inside at once that Sanji can’t put off the gasp and the arch of his back.

“So suddenly…” he grumbles but still moans.

He levels Sanji with an irritatingly simpering look, “Coulda fooled me.”

The wet squelching sounds Zoro is causing by thrusting his fingers in and out make Sanji blush all the way to his nape. He clasps his hand on the man’s chest, palming it out on his marble sternum. His arm starts to tire and tremble and he topples over the muscled chest and the jutting abs with a charming whimper.

Zoro smiles to himself at the action and actually exults at the idea of having Sanji trembling and hot with just a touch of his fingers, it’s also very worrisome. He can’t imagine Sanji with someone else, and what’s more, he can’t imagine him hot and trembling under anyone’s touch but his and he fucking signed up for it –

“Zoro!” The man, who’s been moaning and sucking on a mole between his dibs, suddenly interrupts his dark musings, propping up on his healthy arm again. “That’s enough…” he keens, “just… hurry.”

Zoro catches sight of the swollen cock that looks like, with one tap, and it’d burst.

Sanji is still that man whom he hunted four years ago who could reduce his narcissistic egocentricity, which couldn’t even define love at the time, to passion and desire tinged with obsession. The gangly man whose fiery eyes used to make something in him tremble and tingle, whose persistence always broke through his merciless exterior and the depths of his depravity. But right now, he isn’t. He’s just the man he wants to ask for forgiveness and not sound defeated. The man he wants to make love to and not look weak and whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with and not be judged.

They’d –he’d tried to push his luck and tried talking Sanji into sucking him off; it was always a sight to behold. Sanji refused out flat, justifying it with his need to adapt because he still remembers the times he used to get beaten into it, which brings up the many times Zoro had fucked him into submission. Zoro will give him the time he needs, and for now, he will be more than satisfied fucking Sanji with the latter shagging on his lap.

He yanks his fingers out and drinks in the sight of Sanji mewling in a sweet aching sound and ejaculating over their stomachs. He chuckles longingly and gives the man’s cock a few strokes, milking whatever left.

He parts his lips to talk but Sanji’ hand clasps over his mouth.

“Don’t.” He warns, panting very deeply. “Don’t you dare.”

Zoro parts his lips and licks Sanji’ fingers, “was just gonna say that was hot.”

Sanji’ alluring eyes land on Zoro’s, and the way he pouts matches the temptation in his eyes it’s ridiculous. This makes it the second time this morning Zoro says something corny, he figured it was a one-off but, apparently, Zoro is starting to grow this into a habit. He isn’t saying he isn’t a fan, but didn’t Zoro just chuckle? Which really doesn’t fall under the same heading; the guy was making fun of his stupid stamina again.

He’s gonna make him regret the whole thing.

All it takes is Sanji scraping his teeth along the edge of Zoro’s jaw and moan against the skin of his neck and the man’s cock hops hard angling to drill inside Sanji’ ass. He aligns it with Sanji’ entrance and, very slowly, pushes it in. He frames the man’s ass cheeks and kneads and gropes tightly, making Sanji unable to control his whines. He starts moving his hips, thrusting up into the hot wetness that makes him groan in satisfaction; this is simply the fucking best.

“Ah, aah” Sanji is moaning atop him with his eyes looking glossy. “Yeah, oh fuck, yes…”

Zoro licks his upper lip; so far, this is satisfying. He’s always loved a little pain in it, though. He grabs Sanji’ injured arm and pulls it to him, making Sanji cry out. Thing is, the gash on Sanji upper arm extends all the way to his forearm, a little below the nook area, so, because of the stitches, he can’t stretch it. Zoro pulling his arm like this must feel really, really painful.

Sanji hardens his glare down at the man relishing his pain and clutches at his neck, wrapping his fingers around it and pushing those veins back in.

To punish him, Zoro snaps his hips and thrusts even deeper until all of his cock is buried inside Sanji’ ass.

Sanji tightens his grip on the neck and whimpers, “So deep!” he howls, endearingly. Zoro snaps his hips again and thrust into him faster and deeper each time, making their balls slap. Sanji tries to toss his head to the back but the stitches on his neck forfeit the action and he whimpers with tears spilling down his cheeks. He can feel Zoro sighing excitedly beneath him at the whole thing. He doesn’t forget to keep his grip around the man’s neck tight as he bucks up against the cock drilling inside his ass. “Oh!” His eyes widen, as though in renewed realization, “More, Zoro, fuck me more.”

Zoro hisses and releases the injured arm, now he gropes Sanji’ ass cheeks again. “Just remember,” he breathes out, “you asked for it.”

Sanji moans in anticipation alone, he knows what’s going to follow.

Zoro holds Sanji’ ass in the perfect angle, and then he moves his hips again, faster and deeper that the wet slaps sound so hollow. And he doesn’t fucking stop.

“Ah!” Sanji cries out, pleasurably. “Ah! Oh, God, yes! That’s it, right there, Zoro. Just like that, mmm….”

Zoro follows the coaching to the word. “You like that, huh?” he urges, fervently.

“Love it,” Sanji moans, “love it when you fuck me so hard like this, makes me go crazy for your dick.”

Literally too, it seems.  Zoro muses on a smirk.

He loves Sanji’ new habit of wrapping his arm around his neck and pressing his nose against his cheek, he loves it to the bone. Sanji’ breath falls hard on his jaw every time he gasps and moans and even grunts. He manages to keep this up longer enough for Sanji’ cock to cum again before he’s also sending his cum inside the man, soaking his ass and inner thighs.

They both cling to each other, hugging tightly and riding out the intense afterglow.

They’re slowly sinking back under the covers when the sound of the phone’s vibrations goes off –muffled by the covers– and followed by the spectacular scattering noise that suggests the phone has just fallen from the bed and onto the ground. It startles the puppy who was napping by the fireplace.

Sanji bites down on his bottom lip and sighs, “I’m gonna kill him”

Zoro chuckles darkly and motions with his head, “you should go.”

“I know” Sanji says, faintly. He props up a little, and scans the inside of the cabin. “Don’t want to, though.”

“Don’t want you to, either.” Zoro is fast to admit, and that serious expression ups Sanji to leave the bed entirely because he’s weak to temptation and he can’t risk leaving his friend in the street.

Zoro watches as Sanji walk towards the bathroom with the cum, which he spurted inside him, dripping down his thighs. The sight alone makes him half hard again. Sanji disappears inside the bathroom to obviously wash up, and the sound of water splashing asserts his prediction.

He does remember Luffy, the puppy-eyed with the gummy grin whom he ordered to be locked and looked after by Dracule, and he doesn’t remember interacting with him much either. He’s glad. There’s something more than remorse and nightmares in his statement. There’s relief. He doesn’t carry memories of doing Sanji’ friend harm so the fact that he can look the man in the eyes and feel the guilt he carries towards  _ him  _ the only thing creating a turmoil is really consoling.

But with Luffy here, Sanji might not have a chance to come see him, and neither will he. He hangs his hope in the thought that maybe the guy isn’t going to spend long in this town, and he and Sanji will continue to see each other again. The pinched expression that must be tugging at his face now is the sign of his inner fears; Sanji accepted this life in the shadows, with him. To take a leap like that and toss himself into the unknown and leave much of his life behind… it’s a death sentence. He knows that as long as he’s with him, Sanji could never have normal.

Sanji exits the bathroom and shifts around for his clothes which they’d torn off each other in their haste to get to the bed last night. He starts putting them on and ignores the deep stare concentrating on his every move, eating him up and making his fingers tremble and fail to button his jeans.

“What’ you doing, you bastard” –he looks charmingly at the other– “planning to peel off my clothes with just your eyes?”

“You have any objections?”

“I don’t think it works, you lil’ piece of shit.” Sanji bites his tongue and grins teasingly. “Try something else.” Saying so, he palms his bulge slightly and licks his upper lip very slowly, suggestively.

It takes all in Zoro’s power not to bolt from the bed and lurch forward to pin Sanji down to the floor and fuck his brains out.

“Your friend just called again.” He grumbles. “So go to him, and get the fuck out of my place.”

Sanji puts the jacket on next and ruffles his hair. Then, he walks up to the bed to collect his phone from the ground. He hides the cock-blocking contraption in his pocket and approaches Zoro’s side. “I’m gonna miss your dick.”

Zoro scoffs and shakes his head, “gonna miss your ass” he counters, “you gonna put any dildos in there if it gets lonely?”

Sanji leans in, the playful look over his face changing and falling into a frown, like he wants to cry and wail his eyes out. Then he cups Zoro’s cheek. “Only you, Zoro” he whispers, “toy or not, game or not, it’ll always be just you.”

See?

He’s breaking through Zoro’s façade again, saying the corniest crap…

He pulls Sanji down for a heated kiss and doesn’t pull away until the other keens for some air. He beholds his dazed face and swollen lips, and again, all he wants to do is pull the man to his bed again.

“Go now.”

Sanji smiles sheepishly and nods, “see ya.” He waves over his shoulder and walks up to the front, and he doesn’t vacate the cabin until he’s slipped his feet into his boots and blew a kiss to Zoro who throws a pillow at him.

Zoro shakes his head on a fading smile, he sits up and looks towards the fireplace where Snowie is sprawled on the chair pad.

Sanji is still smiling shyly and it somehow overcomes the cold that enwraps him.

This, whatever it is they’ve etched like footprints on snow, might be gone with the upcoming change in the air. None of them can tell for how long this could last for them, this burning passion that is, despite everything, still aflame. It’s supposed to be comforting; they do take comfort in the passionate nights they share tangled together, tasting and melting in each other… but it’s hard to push away doubts when their rival is their past.

The past is part of their present together, but there’s always that wishful thinking that with enough good memories, those shadows haunting them will be overwritten or just… go away. So far, it hasn’t happened. The words ‘may’ and ‘someday’ become more comforting than those passionate nights.

More than the past, there’s the world; biggest things threatening their small sphere, which consists of just the two of them, to be forced under the lights and condemned. It’s easy for the other party to point accusatory fingers and return a verdict of ‘guilty’ because the two of them and what they have are beyond understanding… unsavorily disreputable when it simply just can’t be labeled. But it’s hard to be accepted.

Neither of them acknowledges the perpetually lingering darkness they have to wallow in and hide under, but they both know it’s far more merciful than the world could ever be.

What offers consolation, though, in the cold and dark abyssal depths of this pit are the gentle touches and radiating smiles and the whispered assurances they give each other in their nightly privacy.

With that in mind, they know the next wait is going to be so worth it…

 


End file.
